Dragon
by Chrysanthemum White
Summary: After a Purple Dragon initiation gone awry, the turtles discover the initiate is more than she seems. 2k3-verse. Don't be fooled by the character list. So far: Raphael, Purple Dragons, OC, Donatello, Michelangelo, Splinter, Leonardo, Angel, Casey, April. [ON HIATUS]
1. Initiate

Contrasted by streetlight and stars, a shadow threaded its way through New York City's skyline. Sometimes a flicker of red fabric would catch the light, or a dim wash of illumination would drag across the curve of a shell, but otherwise the shadow blended seamlessly into the dark.

Trying to clear his head after an argument with Leo, Raph front flipped over an alley. He landed expertly and would've kept running if not for the crash from below. Sounded like a bottle breaking. He peered over the ledge to see what was going down.

Thirteen Purple Dragons crowded a brunette who leaned with one foot propped against the building and her hands in her pockets. She wore a purple hoodie and jeans with converse sneakers. Looked to be late teens, early twenties. No dragon tat. Her hair was swept into a braided bun at the base of her neck.

One of the Purple Dragons pointed a bottle at her, neck first. Near her feet, shattered fragments twinkled from the pavement.

She didn't take the bottle.

Raph needed a better angle so he vaulted the ledge to a fire escape. He perched inside a cast shadow and tried to gauge the situation. This wasn't your typical Purple Dragon crime scene.

"You a dragon," said the one with the bottle. "Or a chicken?"

She took her foot off the wall.

A Purple Dragon near the back armed with a crowbar did a chicken impression. The others joined in and brandished weapons of their own. The muscled guy in front with the broken bottle. Two who blocked each end of the alley and spun chains. One with a baseball bat covered in nails. Another baseball bat, metal instead of wood. Pipes. Brass knuckles. A hammer.

The guy standing next to the chicken impersonator was armed with a sullen appearance. Hands deep in the pockets of his oversized jacket. Eyes on her.

"This crosses a line." She moved under the fire escape. "I'm out."

"Told you she don't have what it takes."

"Coward." The one with the hammer stepped nearer and glowered. "Know what we do to cowards?"

"I imagine you murder them."

Plenty of mouths dropped open, but not the one with the broken bottle. He flipped it around so the sharp end faced her. A droplet of amber liquid hit the pavement.

She stretched her arms overhead until her fingertips brushed the drop ladder. She was petite so she rose up on tiptoe, but calluses peppered her hands.

Raph was no more than six feet away from her, crouched on the railing above. He saw the tension in her shoulders and the aggression that brimmed in the Purple Dragons. In nanoseconds he had the alley scoped out for anything he could use to level the playing field.

The opposite side of the alley didn't have a fire escape, but a dumpster sat within jumping distance. Its lid was down flat, which would make for an easy landing, and framing it on either side were a metal door and a pair of trash cans, respectively. The outermost trash can's lid was off, trapped under the foot of the sullen guy at the back of the Purple Dragons. Hands still shoved in his jacket, the guy's posture changed.

Lowlife thugs picked the wrong night.

Raph balanced sideways on the fire escape.

It began.

Guy with the hammer came at her first. She jumped back and yanked the drop ladder, which careened down between her and the rest to land hard on the hammerer's foot. While he hopped back yelping and bumped those behind him off balance, the hammer slipped out of his grip into hers, and she wasted no time chucking it head first through the rungs at the bottle wielder's face. The bottle wielder ducked. The hammer may have missed its initial target but the Purple Dragon behind the bottle wielder didn't dodge fast enough. That one had the bat full of nails, and the hammer caught him square in the jaw.

Raph might've appreciated the poetry if not for the fact this wasn't going the way he thought. With her fighting back, him dropping in to help got complicated. He didn't want to get kicked in the shell by someone he was trying to protect.

And she could kick.

With the way she maneuvered her surroundings, precise and clearly trained, it's no wonder the Purple Dragons wanted her on their side.

Bottle wielder came at her next. So far she'd kept one hand on the drop ladder's rungs and thrust them up or down to her advantage, but that bottle was sharp and the wielder had enough bulk to swallow four of her. He charged, she let go. The drop ladder caught him in the chest but he swung the bottle around it sharp end first.

She moved in with the drop ladder between them and caught his arm. Then she twisted.

When he didn't release the bottle she bit him.

His grip failed and the bottle fell into hers. She kicked him away and spun around to ascend the ladder. As the Purple Dragons crowded her she countered and slashed, fending them off easily now that she had something sharp. Anyone who didn't want to get cut had to keep a berth.

Sullen guy climbed on the dumpster. From his jacket he pulled a gun.

You know how time slows down when something bad is about to happen? Time slowed down for Raph.

In response to the threat he acted automatically, but it was like running down a hallway that kept getting longer. An aggravating dissonance bloomed between Raph's mind and his physical movement. Each moment took forever. First moment: sullen guy reached deep into an internal pocket of that oversized jacket. Raph pulled a sai from his belt without remembering, and the cloth-wrapped metal found its place in his fist. Next moment: headlights zoomed past, washing over the alley to reveal the gun's barrel. Blood turned fire in Raph's veins and he launched off the fire escape with a furious cry as the alley darkened back into shadow. This moment: sullen guy aimed at the top of the drop ladder. Raph rocketed through the air toward him.

Amazing how many _if only_ s you have time for in the span of a few seconds.

If only he'd scoped out the alley better. Been more like Don.

If only he'd jumped to the dumpster sooner. Been quick as Mikey.

If only he hadn't waited so long in shadow. If only he hadn't hid.

If only.

Gunfire.

Raph knew how Leo felt.

She shrieked.

 _If only_ s wouldn't help anyone now.

Raph's sais were slick with blood and his ears rang. Guy underneath him wasn't moving. Good. Raph whirled around. No one on the fire escape. No sign of her.

Most of the Purple Dragons had ducked at the gunshot, and some scrambled out of the alley. The rest cussed or fumbled for any weapons they'd dropped. Many tripped over each other. A clump of them huddled by the fire escape, some covering their heads.

Raph couldn't see her but he knew where she'd be. Bottom of the drop ladder. He hoped not dead.

"Out of the way, whack-bags!" He stowed a sai and snatched the gun off the dumpster. "I ain't afraid to use this."

The bulky guy got in Raph's way. The remainders followed suit. Raph was mad enough to pull the trigger.

No bullets.

"You gotta be kidding me."

He tossed the gun and flipped over their heads, landing in a crouch in front of her. She'd curled up on the ground and breathed through clenched teeth as she bled. Raph couldn't help her if he got his shell cracked so he spun around to defend.

Sneakers and boots encroached. Chains dragged along the pavement and skipped over potholes. Raph busted shins and kicked out kneecaps. Crowbars swung in violent diagonal arcs. Metal slid across metal as Raph grunted in anger or exertion as he parried and disarmed. His counterattacks were explosive but controlled. He placed his shell between her and the Purple Dragons and didn't give ground.

Wind fluttered his mask's twin tails.

Then sirens whined from afar. The alley lit up in blue and red strobes.

The Purple Dragons scrammed.

When Raph faced her his expression slackened with surprise.

She was on her feet.

Instead of the usual face people make at Raph when they see him, hers was placid with the exception that her eyes had gone wide. They were honey brown and she didn't look away. She squeezed her left arm and slouched. Blood seeped through the tear in her hoodie and dribbled between her fingers. She wasn't hurt too badly anywhere else, but that didn't look good.

When she opened her mouth Raph prayed she wouldn't scream.

"What—" She covered it well but she did change her wording. "—is your name?"

"Raphael." He showed her his palms. "And you don't gotta be scared. I ain't gonna hurt you or nothing."

"Raphael? Angel or artist?"

"Uh. Turtle."

"Guess that answers my other question."

The sounds of arrests clattered from a few alleys away. Miranda rights and handcuffs.

"You oughta get that looked at, Miss, uh."

"Cateyana. If I had friends they'd call me Cat or Kit or something."

"If?"

"Yeah. If."

"Well anyway. Hospital's not far from here. I'm sure one of those cops will give you a lift if you ask real nicely."

Cateyana glanced at the alley's exit. She didn't move from her spot under the fire escape.

Raph contemplated shoving her toward the cops himself.

"Can't," said Cateyana.

"Whaddya mean, _can't?_ "

"My father will kill me if I go anywhere official."

"If that's true then he don't sound much like a father."

Cateyana smiled this sad little smile.

"Well I can't just let you wander off without getting that looked at."

"I've got dental floss. Works good in a pinch."

"Know what else works good in a pinch? An ER visit."

"I told you I can't. Anyway it's fine. I'm only grazed."

"It is not fine." Raph's teeth gritted. After he'd gone through the trouble of saving her, now she was being difficult. And for what? His gut made him soften his tone. "Are you really that scared of your dad? What's the worst he could do?"

"You don't wanna know the worst he could do."

"Try me."

"It's not worth knowing."

Raph narrowed his eyes.

Cateyana didn't fold. She had a hardness about her that Raph's intimidation tactics couldn't penetrate.

"If you're not gonna go to a hospital then where you gonna go?"

"Somewhere."

"Well gee, ain't that specific."

"My father's current residence."

"So lemme get this straight. He's fine if you show up shot fulla holes but not if you go to a hospital?"

"That about covers it."

Raph was beginning to understand why she'd gotten mixed up with the Purple Dragons.

"I appreciate the help." Cateyana lifted her hand to peek at the wound. "Really. You probably saved my life."

No winning with this one. Raph took off his mask. "Got anywhere to go that ain't your dad's?"

While Raph dressed her arm with his mask, Cateyana shook her head. She wouldn't look at him, and the way her eyes glistened might've meant she was about to cry.

The cops finished their arrests and vacated, which eliminated Raph's option to have them handle her instead.

"How you feel about sewers?"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I know a guy could stitch you up."

"A guy in the sewers."

"Yeah, uh. Me and my brothers live down there. If you count me there's four of us. Plus Master Splinter. So five actually."

Cateyana blinked and raised her eyebrows but the expression was ruined when she winced.

"It ain't far." Raph removed the manhole cover. "Need help getting down?"

Cateyana peered past Raph into the pitch darkness of the sewer. She gulped.

"I, uh. I won't let you fall or nothing."

"That's not exactly the issue here."

"Then what's the matter? Scared of the dark?"

"I just." She dipped her foot into the hole and found the ladder. "Don't like when there's only one exit."

They descended.


	2. Cateyana Sewn Shut

Sewage and rancid water churned by Cateyana's feet as she made her way down the tunnel behind Raphael. Cold, damp air that smelled of rotten fish hung on her skin and crept up her nose. The stink combined with the lack of light was making her nauseous and disoriented. Every few paces she bumped into his shell.

"Sorry," she said for the fourth time.

"Don't sweat it. Actually, uh." Raph swiveled around and caught her right wrist, leading her gently past him, and his skin's amphibious cool seeped through her hoodie. She shivered. When he grasped her shoulders his presence was solid behind her. "You wanna walk in front? Promise I won't let you fall or nothing."

Things never ended well when someone took Cateyana's back. Vulnerability rippled through her, the wooziness amplified by anxiety.

Raph nudged.

She tiptoed forward slow enough to lose a race with a snail.

"I gotcha."

She tiptoed only a tad faster. Before her the tunnel was a maw shrinking tighter, and behind her Raphael was an anchor, but an anchor whose motives she didn't know. She raised her left arm to the wall to try and orient herself and a shock of pain burgeoned through her. Nausea came with it, and though she bent her knees to keep from falling, she did sway.

"Easy." Raph steadied her. "You dizzy? I could carry you the rest of the way. Ain't far."

Cateyana breathed. Three counts in, five counts out. She shook her head.

"We'll getcha patched up. Donnie's real good at the medical stuff."

"Donnie?"

"Yeah, one of my bros. You'd like him. You two wear the same colors."

Cateyana put extra pressure on the makeshift bandage. Both her heart and her wound throbbed. "What do you get out of helping me?"

"What kind of a question is that?"

"There has to be an ulterior motive here." Her breath rasped in and out her lungs. It was mere noise without sensation. Trust paved roads for betrayal. That's what life had taught her. Her voice quivered. "Right? I mean we're not even the same species."

"Shell of a way to thank someone. If you're gonna talk like that then maybe I shouldn'a helped. What's it matter whether we're the same species or not?"

Cateyana didn't know. She didn't know anything anymore. Her world shrunk into fear. This was crazy. She was crazy! She wrenched free of Raph's grip and bolted. The tunnel was dark as a grave and the sewage at her feet smelled of death and her footfalls echoed like specters the whole time she sprinted. When her adrenaline ran out she fell, and an absurd thought invaded her mind. She hadn't given him back his mask. Curled over, breathing hard, her wound became a blade of pain. It twisted deep into her left arm until it forced her to flop onto her side. Alone in the dark she heard herself whimper. Yet the whole time all she could think was she'd stolen something, and this time not something she'd meant to steal.

Streetlight sank through a grate and formed rectangles near Cateyana, allowing hazy visibility. Blood had stained her hoodie sleeve a far deeper purple. She twitched her fingers to test how much she could move without flashes of pain. Not much.

A shadow blocked the light from the grate.

"What's going on with you?" Raph's voice combined anger with concern. "I told you I wasn't gonna hurt you. You think just cuz I'm a turtle I can't have any compassion?"

"No, that's not."

"Then what?"

Cateyana squirmed.

"You can trust me." He offered a hand. "Really. I mean I wouldn'a gone through all this trouble if I had an ulterior motive or whatever."

Exhaustion loosened her tongue. "I'm so used to my father. Every time he does something nice and I think to myself maybe this time will be different, it turns out he was just being smug. All tricks. Every time."

"Like I said before." Raph hoisted her carefully, and Cateyana realized he really did have warmth. It radiated out from his center. His palms held more heat than his digits. "Don't sound much like a father."

They backtracked with Raph taking most of her weight. To have support that wasn't a ruse was so refreshing that the shame of running off amplified until Cateyana fell silent. She tried not to wheeze as they trudged, and blinked away any spots of dizziness. Raph, true to his word, made sure she didn't fall.

When they reached a dead end and Raph announced that they'd arrived, all Cateyana could see was a wall covered in pipes. Raph twisted one of those pipes out of position and Cateyana decided she must be delirious because the entire wall slid open. She made sure to use her right hand instead of her left to shield her eyes from the light that flooded out of the entrance.

Raph's hand on her back ushered her past the threshold before it could close. It took a moment for Cateyana's blindness to fade but when it did, wonder and relief unraveled the tension in her chest. Here there were furnishings, so many things familiar, and most importantly more space. And it smelled better.

"Yo Donnie!" Raph brought her to the couch. "Bring the first-aid kit. We got an emergency over here."

"Who's hurt?" Donatello arrived with first-aid kit in hand and stopped short upon seeing Cateyana. His stunned silence lasted only a moment before he was moving toward her with clinical urgency. "What happened? And no offense, but who are you?"

"Purple Dragons shot her," said Raph.

"Why didn't you bring her to a hospital?" Don untied Raph's mask to reveal her wound, and the fabric pulling away from her flesh opened fresh waves of nausea. "You know there's not much I can do for her down here."

"Cateyana." Cateyana shrugged off her hoodie, both because it would make the process smoother and because she was suddenly overcome with conflicting thermal sensations. The pain made her sweat, but she was cold at the same time, and both extremes played tug of war with her in the middle.

"I'm Donatello," answered Don. "And I'll do all I can, but it still might be nice to know why you're not in an ER right now."

When Don pulled disinfectant and a suture out of the first-aid kit, Cateyana fell against Raph, who kept her upright and didn't complain.

"This might sting," warned Don.

"Might." Cateyana braced herself but when the disinfectant hit she couldn't help but squirm. It felt like acid sawing through her flesh all the way down to the bone. In a floaty, detached way she heard her own breathing pick up its pace. Felt herself slide heavier against Raph as her head went light. For the stitches she closed her eyes and hissed with every pass of the suture. Needle then thread invaded her skin and wove it together in hooks of cold metal, hot slithers of string, and yanks that pinched her flesh. It _hurt_.

"It's almost over." Raph held her steady until Don was finished. "You're doing great."

As Don wrapped the bandage Cateyana dreaded having to explain why she hadn't gone to a hospital. She hoped he wouldn't ask again, prayed he'd let her rest before delving into an interrogation. Wanted Raph to cover for her but knew it wasn't his responsibility. People had to look out for themselves. Whether or not they were turtle people.

In her condition she didn't know how well she could lie, and she didn't want to. Not to those who'd helped her.

She got the feeling if she didn't come clean Raph would get in trouble.

"It's because of my father." Cateyana didn't dare open her eyes. "He forbids hospitals. And anywhere else official."

"That doesn't sound suspicious or anything," said Don.

"Maybe this conversation could wait 'til later." Raph shifted from underneath her and eased her onto her side against the cushions. She appreciated the reprieve but didn't know how to thank him, and what came out was a moan. Raph responded with a grunt. "Where is everyone anyway? Haven't seen Leo, Mikey, or Master Splinter."

"Leo left after you ran off." The supplies clinked as Don returned them to the first-aid kit. "Master Splinter took Mikey on a supply run."

Cateyana pried her eyes open. Raph's forearm was in front of her nose, his wrist flopping off the seat of the couch. He'd sat on the floor and was using the couch as a backrest. Shell-rest?

Don closed the first-aid kit with a snap and when he saw her glancing his way, smiled.

She attempted to smile back but it came out a grimace.

"I suppose it is better to get the lowdown once everyone's gotten back," said Don. "That way no one has to repeat anything."

Without the mask Raph's eyes were gold. "Why don'tcha take a nap 'til then? I promise it's safe here in the Lair."

Cateyana didn't remember falling asleep and when she awoke a turtle she didn't recognize was staring at her. Gigantic blue eyes. Orange mask. All up in her personal bubble.

"Hey guys," said Mikey. "I think she's waking up."

Startled, Cateyana squeaked and shrunk deeper into the couch.

"Woah, time to switch to decaf."

At that particular moment what came out of Cateyana's mouth was: "I don't drink coffee."

"Do not crowd her, Michelangelo."

New voice. Cateyana scrambled up straight as she could and when her wound throbbed from being jostled she blinked. Giant rat. _Giant_ rat. She wondered if blood loss could cause hallucinations. Or maybe shock. Shock could do that, right?

"Greetings, miss." Splinter bowed.

Polite giant rat. "Hi?"

"You have already met my sons, Raphael and Donatello, but I believe proper acquaintances are in order. I am called Splinter. What is your name?"

"Cateyana." Compelled by Splinter's presence not to lie, she offered her real last name. "Williams."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Williams."

"Cateyana's fine. Or if I had friends they'd call me Cat or Kit or something."

"What about Kit Kat?" asked Mikey.

Don bopped him upside the head.

"Ow! What?"

Cateyana marveled at how much their body language resembled a human's, and glanced around to see if any more giant animals would appear. So far: three turtles, one rat. She was outnumbered. That put her at their mercy. Ingrained habits forced her into hyperawareness.

Splinter's whiskers twitched and his tail swayed back and forth along the rug. Don sat in a nook full of dismembered technology and fiddled with a motherboard. Mikey plopped down in front of the couch and grinned. His teeth were straight and white.

And then there was Raph wailing on a punching bag in the corner. He caught it as it swung back to him, stopping its momentum, and looked Cateyana's way. His expression was a subdued version of Mikey's.

She could trust Raph. Probably Don too. But these two new faces, she wasn't sure.

"Sorry for intruding." She did a little bow at Splinter, because when you mirror someone's mannerisms, copy their politeness, sometimes it puts them in a place where they trust you. And if someone trusts you, it's easier to convince them not to harm you.

"You're not intruding," said Mikey. "We could use more company down here in the Lair. Don't you think so, Don?"

"I mean sure, I guess. Provided that company doesn't spell trouble."

Cateyana went rigid.

"Are you all right, Miss Williams?" Splinter hunched closer, looking not only at her but it seemed through her as well, right down to her core. "From what my sons have told me, you have had a trying day."

To put on a mask of ease she relaxed every muscle in her face, and then slammed a wall between her demeanor and her emotions.

Splinter's eyes narrowed.

"Yeah." Mikey inched into her personal bubble again. "How'd you get mixed up with a gang like the Purple Dragons anyway? If you ask me you don't seem like their type."

"Type?" When interrogated, misdirect as much as possible. Answer questions with questions.

"Sure. No tattoos for one thing. And you're not decked out in that counterculture stuff they're so proud of."

"Counterculture stuff?"

"You know. Spikes. Chains. Whacky hair in funny colors."

"What qualifies as a funny color?"

Mikey thought on this.

"A discussion for another day, perhaps." Splinter braced against his walking stick and once again eyed Cateyana. After a few swishes of his tail he corrected his posture and tapped Mikey on the shoulder. "Come, my son. Let us prepare tea for our guest. An ancient Japanese proverb teaches that the right tea can crumble even the most sturdy walls built around a person's heart."

"Are you sure that's a proverb, Master Splinter?" Mikey followed Splinter into the kitchen, which gave Cateyana some breathing room.

But breathing room didn't matter because Cateyana was too stunned to speak. Just like that, Splinter had figured her out. She'd practiced that placid face thousands of times in the mirror, curled into herself behind her inner wall in so many tense situations, most of them far tenser than this, so _how?_

"Don't look so surprised." Don smiled sweeter than Raph or Mikey, but with an indulgent aura. "Master Splinter is a master of ninjutsu. Reading people comes with the territory."

Cateyana hoped none of them could read the parts of her that caused her shame, and the teapot screamed.


	3. Disquiet Rising

As Leo crawled through the ventilation shaft, he replayed what happened nine days ago. Angel's brother Ryan had been ambushed by the Purple Dragons. Leo only arrived at the tail end of the confrontation, but he still blamed himself for not getting there sooner. A sullen guy with a gun put Ryan in critical condition, and Leo just barely got him to the hospital in time. Since then Leo had buckled down on everyone. Extra training. More running. Spars until they dropped. So they'd be prepared. So none of his brothers would ever have to feel what Leo himself had felt when that gun went off. But of course Raph wouldn't have any of it and threw a fit, so now Leo was infiltrating a hospital in the middle of the night just to quell his own insecurities. 

Past the vent slats in Ryan's room Leo saw a nurse checking vitals and Angel curled up in a chair by the bed. She held her brother's hand. 

"Visiting hours are almost over," said the nurse. "He's stable. Why don't you go home and get some rest? He's in good hands here." 

"Are 'good hands' why he's still unconscious?" Angel shuddered and softened her tone. "Sorry. Just. Could you give us some space? I've still got fifteen minutes." 

The nurse nodded politely and left.

"Angel," said Leo. "It's me. Leonardo."

Angel moved to sit under the vent and angled her face away from the door like the turtles had taught her. "What're you doing here?"

"Checking in. How is he?" 

"Not awake."

Where there should've been silence there were machines beeping. The electrical hum grated on Leo's nerves.

"Stable." Angel shifted in the chair. "Or that's what they say anyway."

"Stable's good at least."

"Why're you really here, Leo?"

"The Purple Dragons. They've been making messes outside their usual turf lately. I was wondering if maybe you could tell me why." 

"Do I look like I could tell you why?"

"I'm sorry, it's just. You're my only lead. Or your brother is."

"Does he look like he could tell you why?"

Shame turned Leo's throat slimy with disgust. Remorse. And he was angry. At himself. At the guy who put a bullet in Ryan. At the entire Purple Dragon gang for everything they'd ever done. He seethed there in the ventilation shaft, not daring to speak. If he spoke up now it would just be another failure.

"Word on the street is they're recruiting." Angel crossed one leg over the other. Then she switched which leg was on top. Then she did it again. "But way more than normal and not with their usual m.o. I haven't heard anything on why."

"Thank you. And I'm sorry. I can't say that enough."

"You check with Casey?"

"Not yet."

"Sounds to me like you better get on that."

"Right." Leo opened his mouth to ask how Angel herself was holding up, even though he knew that was a stupid question on account of the shadows under her eyes, but before he could say anything the nurse reentered the room and the moment was gone.

"Visiting hours are over." The nurse gave Angel a few more seconds with Ryan then ushered her out the door. "Your grandmother is waiting for you in the lobby."

As he crawled back through the vents Leo told himself to focus on the task at hand. Find Casey, which meant find Raph, and figure out if either of them knew anything about this Purple Dragon turf pushing nonsense. He didn't want to, because he didn't want to deal with any more of Raph's attitude, but it looked like he was going to have to. Whatever. If it took another fight with Raph to keep everyone out of harm's way then Leo would do it. Not like he hadn't sacrificed his brothers' opinions of him before in order to keep them safe.

Outside he dropped from the ventilation shaft into alleyway shadow and found a manhole cover. There was a possibility Raph would be out on the town, but more likely by now he'd be back in the Lair. Out of habit Leo moved through the sewers with efficiency, but this time also hesitancy. When he approached the entrance to the Lair the scent of blood hit him hard and he moved faster. Dread clutched his heart and squeezed. Who was hurt? What happened?

Leo entered his home with katanas drawn and counted family members. Don by the entertainment center, unharmed, Raph by the couch, also unharmed, Master Splinter in the kitchen, unharmed. And—

"Hi, Leo!" There was Mikey right in front of him. Also unharmed. "You'll never guess what Raph brought home!"

If something had happened to Klunk then Mikey wouldn't be so chipper. If something had happened to April or Casey then everyone would be freaking out. So did that mean there was nothing amiss? Confused, Leo sheathed one katana. "Guys, there's blood by the entrance."

"Sorry," said a voice Leo didn't recognize. "That's my fault. I'll clean it up."

The scent of tea wafted closer as Master Splinter walked by with a tray. "Please sit down, Miss Williams. There is no need."

The mysterious new person who could only be Miss Williams sat back against the couch. Sensing a family gathering underway, Leo followed after Master Splinter in the hopes that all would be explained.

"Behold." Mikey swept out an arm in presentation. "Leo, meet Cateyana. Or as I like to call her, Kit Kat."

"Michelangelo, enough." Master Splinter handed Cateyana a cup of tea, which she accepted in her right hand but didn't sip. Her fingernails were set in her skin unevenly, discolored and trimmed to the quick. The bandage on her left arm explained the blood at the entrance but not anything about where she might've come from or why she was hurt. "I am sure she would prefer to be called by her proper name."

"Kit or Cat's fine." She stared into her tea. "Just not together."

"Um. Well. Hello." Leo stowed his curiosity for now, sheathed his second katana, and bowed. From the looks of it she'd been through a lot. "I'm Leonardo."

"Hello, Leonardo." The paleness from blood loss intensified her eyes' honeyed color. Her hair might've been kempt once but wasn't anymore. Leo sensed an emotion bigger than fear in her. Darker. But her posture revealed nothing. If anything it mirrored Leo's, upright and polite. Odd, since she was in such bad shape. "I can clean up the blood if someone lets me. Really."

"Would you cut that out already," said Raph. "It ain't your fault that Purple Dragon thug opened fire."

As Leo connected the dots his heart sank. Another shooting. The Purple Dragons really were upping their game. It wasn't just his imagination. He knelt to meet Cateyana at eye level. "They shot you?"

She nodded, her expression icy. It was like a mask fell over her face to block all emotion.

"Leo, about that." Raph paced and avoided eye contact like he always did when he was about to lay out an apology. He talked with his hands as he chose what words to use. "I been thinking about things, what's been going on lately, what with what happened to Angel's brother, and I gotta say I'm sorry. I didn't get it before. But now, after this, well I guess I kinda do get it. You were being hard on us cuz you were trying to protect us. Ain't nothing wrong with that."

"Raph." Leo spared him a glance because if he didn't then Raph might not see the sincerity. "I appreciate the sentiment, but it looks like we might have bigger problems at the moment."

"You mean like why a Purple Dragon would shoot Cateyana in the first place?" asked Don in that astute way of his. "Because I've been wondering that myself. Especially considering the timeframe between Ryan's ambush and now. It's not that far apart."

"Yeah." Mikey flopped over the back of the couch and eyeballed Cateyana. "Unless maybe you did something that pissed them off."

She closed her eyes. Inhaled through her nose.

"Hey," said Raph. "No one asks to get shot."

"No one said that," said Leo. He had to diffuse Raph's temper or they'd never get anywhere. "But there still might be some connection. We have to cover all our bases here. I get the feeling there's more to this whole Purple Dragon escalation than we first thought."

"They shot me because I wouldn't complete my initiation. They wanted me to kill someone. I wouldn't. So they tried to kill me instead."

Silence.

Leo could practically hear the steam drifting off the tea. The connection could be former initiates. He hadn't considered that before. But it was Angel who was the initiate last time, not her brother.

Cateyana took her first sip and placed the cup on the floor.

Leo watched as she collected herself. In the span of a few seconds Cateyana went from a shocked victim of circumstance huddled over her tea to a calculated individual with an erect spine. The effect lasted all of two seconds before she winced and slouched, but the transformation had definitely been there. Leo knew then he was right. There was more to this, and now he got the feeling there was more to her too.

A quick glance to Don confirmed he and Leo were thinking on the same wavelength.

"It's systematic," said Cateyana. "The victims."

"Systematic how?" asked Don.

Raph, Master Splinter, and even Mikey gave their full attention.

"As far as I can tell the gang's power is switching hands," she elaborated. "Recruits pass their initiation by killing a veteran member who disagrees with the new leader. The guy I was supposed to kill went by Dragon Face. Supposedly he's been in the gang for a long time."

"Dragon Face does sound familiar," said Mikey.

"So they're getting the new recruits to do their dirty work." Leo had all sorts of feelings about that. Anger fought concern for dominance. He kept his voice level. "If you don't mind me asking, do you have any idea who this new leader is? Could you give us a name, or maybe describe what they look like?"

"I don't know his real name," said Cateyana. "Just what he goes by. But Raphael, you saw him. He was there in the alley. Burly guy, weapon of choice was a broken bottle."

Recognition dawned on Raph's face.

"And what is it he goes by?" asked Leo in a tone he hoped sounded patient.

"Basilisk."

"You mean like that giant snake thingy from Harry Potter?" asked Mikey.

"Technically that 'giant snake thingy' was based off a mythical creature," said Don. "They got the name right at least."

"Shell of an ego if that's what he chose for his nickname," said Raph. "But come to think of it I did see someone who fit that description back in the alley. If memory serves, you slammed a drop ladder down on his foot and stole his broken bottle for yourself."

"I did do that." Cateyana reached back toward the floor for her tea. "That is a thing that I did."

Leo had to get this conversation back on track. "So this… Basilisk… person. Do you have any more information on him? His usual whereabouts, favorite haunts, that sort of thing? Maybe even his agenda when it comes to the Purple Dragons?"

"And what is it you propose to do with this information, Leonardo?" asked Master Splinter.

The conversation morphed into a thoughtful quiet that to Leo felt like silent judgment.

Cateyana shattered it by sipping tea. "Don't know the overall agenda. But not all gang members are bad people." She put the cup back on the floor and picked at her fingernails. "At least half the current members got coerced into joining. And once a recruit completes initiation there's no way out. The other members serve as witness to the murder. Anyone could blab. It keeps everyone in line."

"Coercion." Leo thought of Ryan and Angel in that hospital room. "What kind of coercion?"

"Mainly they threaten those close to the initiates," said Cateyana as if talking about this were the most natural thing in the world. "Family or friends, whichever they think is the best leverage."

The weight in Leo's chest went from pebble to anvil. 

"If that's true," said Raph. "Then who they got on you?"

"Oh I joined voluntarily." She took another sip of tea.

"I repeat," said Don. "That's not suspicious or anything."

"Maybe I don't have anyone I care about." 

"Everyone's got someone," said Mikey.

Cateyana shrugged.

A rare disturbed expression crossed Raph's face, and in that moment Leo knew Raph knew something more. But now wasn't the time to ask. Later. When they were alone.

"It seems this situation grows more complex the more information arises." Master Splinter stared Cateyana down. "Tell me, Miss Williams, do you know of any pattern that dictates who is recruited?"

"Since I volunteered that's not my expertise."

"Okay, I gotta ask." Don scrutinized her as much as Master Splinter but in a different way. Analytical instead of spiritual. "What made you want to join the Purple Dragons in the first place?"

Leo saw Cateyana squirm. The reaction was subtle but undeniable. That seemed to be the pattern with her. A calm façade with a current of emotion underneath, if someone bothered to look close enough. Leo resolved to always look close enough.

"She wanted to get away from her father," said Raph. "From the sound of it the guy's a real piece of work."

Cateyana didn't comment.

"Okay," said Mikey. "Does anyone else get the feeling we're about to get pulled into another gigantic mess?"

That was rhetorical. They were already in and everyone knew it.


	4. Recent History

For so long Hun had been the problem. He ruled the Purple Dragons with an iron fist, forced them into fights that weren't theirs, and made them into the Shredder's dogs. It was an insult to everything the Purple Dragons stood for. So when the police finally caught up to Hun, Dragon Face rejoiced. It took twelve officers to manhandle Hun into the back of an armored car that day, and thanks to Dragon Face and a newly minted member who called himself Basilisk, the Purple Dragons didn't come to Hun's aid.

Then, slowly, over weeks, Basilisk started calling the shots. With Hun gone, Dragon Face should've taken up command of the Purple Dragons, but Basilisk slid into the position as if he'd always belonged there, and by the time Dragon Face realized the power shift it was too late to argue.

More and more Dragon Face thought Basilisk's nickname suited him. Slippery. Reptilian. Toxic.

Then people started dying. Dragon Face's people. The ones who disagreed with Basilisk's leadership. The ones who disobeyed his commands. They never died directly. They had accidents. They got sick. They overdosed.

Dragon Face might've been a street punk but he wasn't stupid. He ducked his head and kept quiet. He let Basilisk have his way. As much as he wanted to rebel he couldn't. Not with the game rigged. This arrangement worked for all of a week before Basilisk came up to him personally with a request.

"Just the man I need to talk to." Basilisk sidled up to Dragon Face at headquarters in front of the whole gang. The movement was smooth despite his bulk, and he squeezed Dragon Face's shoulder in a public gesture of comradery. "I hear you used to be top recruiter. Mind working the circuit again? Could put your skills to good use, restore the Purple Dragons to their former glory. Back when Hun was around you were always preaching about taking back the city. Now's your chance, man. All we need are some new recruits, more manpower. Then together we take this town by storm. Sounds good right? A dream come true."

Dragon Face hated that he couldn't disagree with Basilisk's logic. He took his crew and worked his old circuit.

Wasn't long before they came across a guy on a street corner with The Look. Probably stolen oversized jacket. Slouched shoulders. Hatred in his eyes. Sullen. Dragon Face guessed runaway, but that wasn't the sort of thing you asked anyone upfront. Dragon Face told his crew to hang back and went up to the sullen guy.

"Got a name?" asked Dragon Face.

"Why do you care?"

"Guy can't ask who he's talking to around here?"

Pause. "Joseph."

"People call me Dragon Face."

"And I should care because?"

"I'm here to make you an offer. You see this tat?" Dragon Face pointed to his face. "It represents family."

"Looks like a deformed chicken to me."

"You're funny. Hey everyone, come look at the funny guy standing on the street corner all alone."

Dragon Face's crew came closer. Joseph glared at them.

"You look like you could use someone watching your back," said Dragon Face. "Don't take that as a threat. It's an observation."

"Oh yeah? What's the catch?"

"No catch. You get some ink, take a test. Then you get a family. Never be alone again. Sounds nice right?"

Joseph licked his lips. "What kind of test?"

Dragon Face took a few days to arrange a robbery. Corner store, family owned. Not many valuables to steal, but not much chance of authorities being called either since the place wasn't in that dangerous of a neighborhood and closed early. Familiar turf. Typical Purple Dragon recruitment site.

Basilisk thought otherwise.

"Nah man." Basilisk walked past Dragon Face and took Joseph by the shoulder, once again in front of the entire gang. "A family owned shop is too easy. Don't you think it's time we stepped up our game? Someone worthy to wear the dragon should be ready to rob a gun store."

Joseph stiffened.

Dragon Face's tongue turned acidic. This wasn't how initiations worked. Recruits were supposed to be eased into things. His crew shared the sentiment. They shuffled and grumbled.

Basilisk rose up and raised his eyebrows. "Problem?"

Dragon Face's crew skedaddled.

"No problem," said Joseph. "Rob a gun store. Sure. Okay. Always wanted a pistol."

Approvingly Basilisk smacked Joseph and sent him away. Then smiled at Dragon Face. "When the cops show, how much you bet he survives?"

###

On the worst day of her life as the sun set Cateyana stood atop a high rise with one foot over the edge and thought: _This is stupid. I shouldn't kill me. I should kill him._

She stared at the traffic below, cars and bikes and people barely visible thanks to the distance, and teetered. It took seven stories before a fall was fatal, and this building was a lot taller than that.

 _Them. Not just him. Ridding the world of my father won't solve the problem. I have to kill Savvy too._

A gust made her muscles tighten. Instinct forced her into a tensioned lean away from the edge, her body's automatic defense against falling forward.

Dusk engulfed the sun.

She pulled her foot back and stepped away from the edge. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't swan dive yet. She had unfinished business. Business that required a better weapon than her pocket knife. Something instant. Long range.

A sniper rifle would work.

There was a gun store a few blocks back.

Amazing the clarity a brush with death can bring you. She walked mechanically.

At a 24-hour pharmacy on the way she purchased a pack of gum while shoplifting latex gloves. She had her hood up for the security cams, but she wasn't caught. This was her warmup.

When she arrived at the gun store, pulling on the gloves so as not to leave fingerprints, she didn't expect someone to already be robbing the place.

A guy in an oversized jacket who wasn't even hiding his face chucked a brick through the front window. It made the loudest clatter Cateyana had ever heard and blanketed the window display with glass shards. With rubbery latex clinging to her fingers and her hood still up she stood there and stared at him. He didn't notice her. He climbed through the broken window.

Up ahead past the store, laughter came around the corner in increasing volume. Didn't sound like authorities. They'd be silent. They'd surround the building and wouldn't think a robbery amusing. This laughter mixed sniggers with mirth.

Cateyana had two seconds to make a decision. Leave or stick around. Remain in the open or hide. She didn't know how many people there were. She stuck around but hid. When her father moved her to New York a few months back she hadn't liked the city because there were too many lights, everything illuminated twenty-four seven. She'd had trouble sleeping for more than the usual reasons. But now that she'd acclimated she saw the upsides. New York had crannies. It was in one of these crannies that she hid.

A conversation drifted to her.

"Hah! B-line for the pistols. Now there's someone worthy of the dragon. What'sa matter, Dragon Face? If I didn't know better I'd say you got cold feet. It ain't even you doing the work!"

"This don't rub you the wrong way?"

"What?"

"Initiations were different before. You remember."

"Yeah well. Times change."

Cateyana always carried a burner phone. Now might be the time to use it. She could call the cops. But the word initiation implied an organization, and an organization might be more useful than guns when it came to her father. She got an idea. A terrible, risky idea. To quell her nerves she took three deep breaths and tugged her hood lower over her face. Then she exited the cranny. Before she could reconsider she marched right up to the two guys in front of the gun store and announced herself.

"What's this I hear about initiation?"

"Who're you supposed to be?" From his voice Cateyana guessed he was Dragon Face. Also the tat made it difficult to think otherwise.

"An aspiring initiate."

"Little thing like you?" The other guy bent toward her. He sported blue hair and a nose ring. "Hah! Get outta here, girly."

The one in the store continued ransacking. He found ammunition.

"Look," said Dragon Face. "We're in the middle of something. If you leave right now we'll pretend this never happened."

"How about this instead?" Cateyana had already placed herself outside their immediate range of attack, but she took another step back just in case and pulled out her burner phone. She flipped it open and brandished it, which earned her oddball looks from the two outside and the return of the one in the store to the broken window. She hovered her index finger over the emergency speed dial. "You let me in on this or I call the cops."

Dragon Face frowned. Who did this chick think she was? Some kind of petite vigilante? He hoped she didn't hang around that guy with the hockey mask.

"We ain't afraid of no cops." Max lifted his chin and stared down his pierced nose at her. He played it cool, but Dragon Face knew him better than that. He was posturing. Neither of them wanted to be arrested. "And we ain't afraid of you, girly."

Joseph loaded a clip into the pistol.

"I'm not afraid of you either." Her finger still hovered over the emergency speed dial but she had yet to press call. For the first time Dragon Face noticed she was wearing gloves. "I don't understand the problem. You're recruiting. I want in. It's a win-win if you recruit me."

"Except for the part where you don't have anything to offer us," said Dragon Face.

"You don't know my skillset."

Joseph tiptoed past the broken glass strewn across the window display and hopped back onto the sidewalk. All he'd stolen was the clip and the pistol. He landed by Max.

Dragon Face decided Joseph passed initiation.

"For example." She closed the phone and whipped it at Dragon Face.

He ducked but she had good aim. The phone hit him square in his tat. Pain blossomed in his temple and radiated through his skull. For a moment his world consisted of dark splotches and curse words and ow. While he recovered he heard scuffles then swears and Max tripped into him. They both stumbled and lost their balance. Dragon Face flailed and reached backward on the way down. The curb scuffed his fingerless gloves at the palms and jostled his spiked wristbands out of place and then his hands met a sewer grate. The metal rails were chilly with grime as Max twisted around on top of him in a hurry to get off.

Dragon Face shook the spots out of his vision. When it cleared and he could see, she had Joseph's neck under a knife. In her other hand she held the gun, which she aimed at Max and Dragon Face.

"Whoa, girly!" Max put his hands up in surrender. "Watch where you're pointing that thing."

She lifted her chin at Dragon Face in a mockery of the way Max had dismissed her earlier.

Alarm made Dragon Face's pulse skyrocket. Sweat leaked out his every pore. It wasn't like he'd never been at gunpoint before, so why did staring down this barrel in particular feel so much more threatening? A glimmer of eyes from beneath her hood answered his question. That look. Not even a little hesitation. She wasn't playing around. If a cop has you at gunpoint they won't shoot unless you give them a reason. But she didn't need a reason. The way she stood with ready confidence, the way that knife pressed closer to Joseph's artery and at the twist of her wrist drew the tiniest bead of blood, the sure line of her arm as she held the gun: it all made her trigger finger seem awful itchy. Made her seem like she wanted an excuse to kill.

Dragon Face didn't want to give her that. Not with Joseph under the knife and Max in the line of fire. Purple Dragons might be seen as street punks by the people of New York but they looked after their own. Or they were supposed to. He mimicked Max's surrender posture.

"See?" She removed the knife from Joseph's neck and the clip from the gun. "I can be useful."

Joseph exhaled shakily and trembled as he rubbed his neck. When she handed him back the gun he fumbled but was quick enough to catch it before it hit the ground.

Max doubled over and let out nervous laughter.

"Okay initiate," said Dragon Face as he pulled himself together. "Consider yourself a Purple Dragon. What's your name?"

"Jane." She pocketed her knife and made her way over to retrieve the phone she'd thrown.

"Jane," said Joseph skeptically.

"Is there a problem with the name Jane?"

"Just seems a bit too ordinary."

"Names can be deceiving." After a quick inspection of her phone she pocketed that too then faced Joseph. "I wasn't really going to slit your throat. Or shoot."

Dragon Face didn't know if he believed her. From the looks of it Joseph and Max didn't know if they did either.

"I had to prove my worth," she continued casually. "You understand."

The conversation might've continued if not for the sirens that blared up the block. They all glanced at each other and then booked.


	5. Breakfast

After a long night of questions and more hospitality from the turtles than she felt she deserved, Cateyana awoke to the smell of burning pancakes. Also a lump of soft weight on her stomach. And kitten purrs. She stared at the orange cat that at some point in the night had curled up on top of her and wondered whether or not it was okay to pet it.

Cateyana never knew how to act around cats. She was more of a dog person. Or a reptile person. Or a spider person. That reminded her she needed to feed Anansi. She hoped Savvy hadn't squished her pet tarantula in the time she'd been away. Then again he'd probably be too afraid to touch it. That was the entire reason Cateyana got a spider for a pet in the first place. Savvy might be her father's right hand man and specialize in the worst kind of chemistry imaginable, but he was also an arachnophobe.

"I see you've met Klunk." Leo's voice gave Cateyana a jolt. She hadn't noticed him sitting there on a cushion by the end of the couch, and there was no way to contain her spasm of surprise. Klunk mewed in a way that must've been aggravated and then kneaded at Cateyana's shirt, circling around to settle back down as an orange ball of fluff. Leo chuckled. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. It's a ninja thing. Kind of second nature by now."

Cateyana wasn't sure if Leo was talking to her or to Klunk. She made a vague noise.

"You don't seem like much of a morning person."

Before she could come up with a coherent response another vague noise escaped her.

"Mikey's making pancakes."

"Mikey's _burning_ pancakes," came Don's voice from the kitchen.

"Am not! Donnie here just can't judge pancake perfection."

"If you don't flip that over it's gonna be stuck to the pan until the end of time."

Cateyana listened with a mixture of befuddlement and nerves. In her experience petty arguments didn't stay petty. They escalated until someone got hurt.

"What's wrong?" asked Leo. "Is your wound bugging you? I'm sure Don would give it another look if you asked him."

Now that Leo mentioned her arm, it throbbed. "It's fine." She was stuck under Klunk's immovable blob of cuteness and found she missed Anansi. Her heart ached. She didn't have anyone except a pet tarantula bought out of spite, and now apparently four giant turtles and a rat. And the giant turtle plus rat thing was still up in the air. Cateyana knew of the possibility they were only being nice to get information out of her, especially when she considered they had history with the Purple Dragons. That little tidbit had come up in yesterday's discussion. "I should get back to my father's. There's stuff I have to take care of."

"What kind of stuff?" Leo's tone came out casual but Cateyana suspected there was more to that question. It could be a segue into an interrogation. Probably a polite one, but an interrogation nonetheless.

"But didn't Raph say your dad's was off limits," shouted Mikey over the sizzle of botched cookery.

"Mikey," said Don. "If you don't flip that pancake I'm gonna flip you."

Cateyana wondered if he'd really flip him.

"What's that? First turtle eliminated talking smack to the Battle Nexu—" A kitchen kerfuffle erupted. A thud of flesh, then Mikey screamed like a girl and Cateyana heard something hard hit the floor, most likely someone's shell. Even though it was quickly over, the scuffle dosed her with adrenaline. She stiffened and managed to contain her reaction this time, if only out of consideration for Klunk.

"Don." Mikey whined and his voice came from lower than before. "What was that for?"

The swoop-smack of half-cooked batter flying up then hitting a pan followed.

Guess Don really would flip someone who pushed enough of his buttons. Cateyana wondered where the turtles drew their lines and hoped none of them would ever flip her.

"Are they always like this in the morning?" She couldn't keep the edge out of her voice as she remembered one morning when she was thirteen and Savvy tried to choke her with his belt. Her father was there that morning, stooped over a map on the kitchen table, but he ignored the struggle. Although Cateyana escaped Savvy's hold, the eyelets left red marks on the underside of her chin. The redness faded after a day or two, but whenever she thought about it she could still feel them there, pressing into her throat like dull fangs.

"Usually Don's more patient," said Leo. "He must be pretty hungry. Or maybe sleep deprived." There was an excruciating pause wherein Cateyana felt Leo puzzling her out. "Hey, um. If you don't mind me saying, you seem kind of nervous."

"First night anywhere makes me nervous."

"You were tossing in your sleep."

If Cateyana had a shell she'd hide in it.

"Mikey thought you might be having nightmares."

The kitchen went suspiciously quiet. The silence pressed down on Cateyana more and more the longer it went on, and she had the absurd notion to shrink into the couch so she wouldn't have to say anything. But it was clear Mikey and Don were listening from the kitchen, and Leo leaned forward expectantly, and sometimes when everyone is expecting you to say something and you don't say anything it can cause more suspicion than if you blurt out an answer. That answer need not be truth.

Yet this time gratitude compelled Cateyana not to lie. She owed her life to Raph's assistance and Don's quick stitch job. She owed their Master Splinter, who allowed her to occupy the couch while she recovered and said he didn't mind how long she stayed so long as she didn't disturb his meditation or his sons' training. She owed Leo for caring enough to ask after her even though she was a stranger in his home. She even owed Mikey for the fact he'd coaxed a few smiles out of her during her short time in the Lair so far. There weren't ill intentions here. There just weren't.

Cateyana wasn't used to that. An emotion germinated inside her.

She hadn't allowed herself to hope in a long time. Years, maybe. The prospect of it now made her insides curl up against the vulnerability but simultaneously shudder with anticipation. A voice in her head that seemed rational told her she might be misjudging the entire situation. She'd misjudged things before, it reminded her, important things. Things that caused deaths. But she muted that voice and told the truth.

She told the truth.

"Yes, I get nightmares."

"Do you mind if I ask about what?" Leo spoke softly, as if she were a delicate thing, and you know what? Cateyana appreciated it. She hadn't been treated delicately in all her life. It made her believe he might see her as a person instead of a tool.

Maybe they all did. See her as a person.

That little seed of hope sprouted but was terrified to grow.

"Pancakes!" announced Mikey.

"I'll get Raph." Don forewent the ladder and vaulted up to the second level of the Lair. He caught the ledge and flipped up easily, and Cateyana marveled at the sheer strength of the maneuver. She could flip, but she couldn't flip like that.

Her stomach growled. Klunk vacated, which eliminated her excuse to stay on the couch.

"Maybe this whole nightmare discussion can wait until after breakfast." Leo gave her a soft smile and offered a hand.

At first she hesitated but she did take his offer.

His calluses were laid out in a different pattern than Raph's. Leo must've been on the same wavelength as Cateyana because after he helped her up, while she was still trapped against him, he flipped her right hand over and inspected her palm. She had calluses of her own.

"You practice?"

"Knives mostly." And guns. And bombs. And whatever she could get her hands on in a crisis.

"No wonder Raph likes you."

"He what?"

Leo maneuvered her toward the kitchen. "Might wanna eat before it gets cold. Or before Mikey hogs all the good stuff."

"Leo's just mad the early bird gets all the worms." Mikey paused. "Or in this case the pancakes."

Don reappeared at that exact moment as if he'd timed his return to get in a verbal jab. "Can it, motor mouth."

It occurred to Cateyana that she'd never had a meal where everyone sat down together as a family. When she was little her mom would plop a bowl of cereal in front of her, or maybe some fruit, and then scrub dishes until Cateyana finished eating. The skin on her mom's hands was always raw, rough and cracking and sometimes blistered, but her mom never once winced, even when the water was so hot it steamed up the sink. Looking back, Cateyana wondered if that was her mom's way of practicing a poker face for Savvy, who always hung around whatever abode they occupied and spewed nonsense while her father was off taking care of business. Ilyana Cordero-Williams, the most stubborn member of Cateyana's defunct family unit, and the only one she ever cared about.

Witness Protection better be doing its job.

When they reached the table and Leo pulled out a chair, Cateyana didn't know what to do with herself. What did one do at a table where everyone faced each other? She sat and tried not to look awkward. Which made her hyperaware of all her fine motor movements which made her feel even more awkward. She picked up a butter knife and twirled it. Ah. Better.

Raph arrived at the table feeling like he hadn't slept a wink to a pile of burnt pancakes instead of anything good. He slouched down in the chair next to Cateyana. "Yo Mikey, what gives? I could make Frisbees outta these."

"Well _someone_ had to go and flip the cook." Mikey punctuated this statement by forking a pancake onto his plate. The dough made a crusty noise as it slid across the chipped kitchenware.

Raph could swear he felt Cateyana tense, but it was Donnie acting weird. Leo wouldn't flip Mikey unless he really deserved it, Master Splinter was still in his room, and Raph himself didn't do it so. Had to have been Don. Now Raph was bummed he missed it. It wasn't often Don lost that godlike patience of his.

Cateyana didn't grab any food for herself until everyone else had full plates. She kept spinning a butter knife like she had some kind of a tic or something.

Raph hoped the pancakes wouldn't crack her teeth with how hard they were. He'd give anything for some eggs. Mikey was good at eggs. Why hadn't Mikey made any eggs?

"I have to leave after breakfast." Cateyana took a bite and chewed for a long time before she swallowed. To her credit she didn't make a face at the char, but she did pile on the syrup. "Thanks though. This is delicious."

"Leave and go where?" Raph had a feeling he wouldn't like the answer.

"My father's."

"No." Raph put down his fork. He felt the rage building. It was too early in the morning for this. "No way."

"So you're kidnapping me?"

"What? No!"

"Then I can leave whenever I like?"

"Well yeah, but—"

"Then after breakfast I'm going on an excursion."

"Okay I gotta say," said Mikey. "Kit Kat, you're really frustrating to talk to."

"It's Kit or Cat, not both. And it comes with the territory."

"Territory?" Once again Raph felt like he wasn't going to like the answer. But he had to ask because he had to know. "What territory?"

Cateyana took another bite and chewed. "Daughter of a criminal."

"A criminal?" Great. Just great. But come to think of it that did explain a lot.

"What's up with that?" asked Mikey.

She poured more syrup.

First she makes a big deal about joining the Purple Dragons to get away from her father, and then she's running back to him first chance she gets. Raph didn't understand it, and he wasn't sure he wanted to.

"If your father really is a criminal then that's even more reason to avoid him." Could always count on Donnie for some logical support. Raph was glad for it.

"Yeah," said Raph. "I mean haven't you had enough of the life of crime? Or do I gotta remind you of the whole getting shot by the Purple Dragons thing."

"Been shot before actually." Even more syrup. Mikey looked like he might snatch the bottle from her if she kept it up. Mrs. Butterworth was making horrible squelchy noises. "It was nice having help this time."

Don looked crestfallen. Which meant he'd abandoned the conversation and Raph was on his own.

Leo to the rescue. "You mentioned before you had stuff to take care of but you never said what that stuff was. Mind filling us in?"

"I have a pet I haven't fed."

That was so anticlimactic Raph wondered if it were a lie. "A pet? What kinda pet?"

"A tarantula."

Raph was sorry he asked. An involuntary shudder ran through him. Who keeps a tarantula as a pet?!

"Ewww." Mikey frowned but the set of his brow was morbidly curious. "What do tarantulas even eat?"

"Crickets, mealworms." Don got into his Brainiac pose. "Moths and other bugs for the most part."

Raph didn't want to know how Don knew what tarantulas ate.

"And roaches," added Cateyana. "They can go pretty long without food but I have to make sure she isn't squished."

"Squished?" said Don.

"She?" said Leo.

Raph said nothing. He inched closer to Mikey who unlike the rest of his shell-for-brains family had had the appropriate reaction of _ewww_ when a tarantula was mentioned.

"I miss her." Cateyana talked into her burnt pancakes, and that icy wall she liked to slam down whenever someone got too close started to show its cracks. "Maybe you think it's gross but she's all I have. If I'm gone for too long someone will squish her to prove his superiority."

The more Raph heard about her father the more he wanted to shove a sai into the guy where the sun don't shine.

"So you do care about something." Mikey pointed his fork at Cateyana triumphantly. "Granted, it's something that belongs in a B-grade horror movie, but it's still something."

"You're not helping," said Don.

Leo stared at Raph and had that "we have to do something about this" look.

Raph was not okay with Cateyana bringing a tarantula into the Lair. He knew that's where this was going. He wasn't about to let her go back to her father's and stay there, and he wasn't the type of turtle who'd separate someone from their pet, especially if she was telling the truth about it being all she had. But of all the things, why'd it have to be a tarantula?

A tarantula!

He couldn't wrap his head around it.

"I appreciate everything you've done so far." Cateyana pushed her plate away. She'd stomached most of it. "But maybe it's best I don't stick around any longer."


	6. Savvy

Shadowing Cateyana was a lot harder than Raph expected it to be. She was no ninja, but she knew enough to blend into crowds, zigzag, double back. It was aggravating to say the least. And Mikey wasn't helping.

"Do you think she knows where she's going?"

Raph glanced down the side of the building. Cateyana was still in sight, but she was moving fast with the midday crowds. "Keep up, shell-for-brains."

"No really. What if she's just lost, you know? And she keeps doubling back because she's running around in circles."

"Mikey."

"I'm just saying."

Down below, the crowd thinned as they approached a seedier part of town full of broken windows and dilapidation. Small story buildings with cracked bricks where the crime rate was high. Not even the Purple Dragons frequented this stretch of block, and it was one of those places the police had downright abandoned. Cateyana sidestepped into an alley and Raph picked up his pace. No matter what he trusted Mikey to keep up. What he didn't trust Mikey to do was keep quiet.

And Mikey proved him right. "How come you're so invested in shadowing her anyway?"

Raph signaled for Mikey to get down and they both flattened against the rooftop.

"Way to not answer my question, Raph."

Raph had the urge to whack Mikey upside the head. The only reason he didn't follow through on that impulse was the fact apprehension had steadily built up inside of him while they tailed Cateyana. The ideal thing would've been for all of his brothers to help shadow her, but Don thought it a better use of time to ask April if she could accommodate Cateyana in the long term, and Leo said he had a bad feeling and ran off to check on Angel. In hindsight maybe Raph should've pointed out that Angel was Casey's responsibility.

Now Raph was kicking himself. Why hadn't he asked Casey?

Oh right, because that bonehead would've blown their cover right out the gate.

But in any case that meant Raph's backup consisted of Mikey, Mikey, and more Mikey.

"Is this gonna be another thing like that stuff with Leo and Karai? Because I gotta say Raph, I don't think I can take any more of that messed up dynamic."

"Would you shut your mouth already? You're gonna blow our cover." Raph peered over the edge. Down there in the alley Cateyana had found a side door and was standing in front of it. Just standing there. Maybe she was psyching herself up or something. She inhaled long until her chest puffed out, and when she exhaled Raph heard her blown out breath loud and clear. The shaky edge to it made her sound nervous. Or in pain.

And then instead of using a set of keys she picked the lock.

"Woah-ho," said Mikey. "She's even shadier than we are."

"Why pick the lock on your own place?" Was it even her own place? If her home life was as bad as she'd let on then it wasn't too much of a stretch to think she might be a squatter. Or something worse, but Raph didn't want to think about that possibility.

Cateyana fussed with the doorknob and stopped. Took her hand off the knob. Took another breath. Gripped the knob again so tight she gave herself white knuckles.

"Um. Raph." Mikey played it off like a joke but Raph knew by the tremor in his voice he was serious. "I'd like to take this moment to say I've got a _bad_ feeling about this."

"Yeah, Mikey. Feeling's mutual."

Cateyana spun the knob but didn't open the door. She took yet another breath.

Then with one backward lurch she yanked the door wide open, keeping her grip on the knob as she scurried back against the building's outer wall. The way she did it put the door itself between her and the rest of the alley and revealed the threshold to be a dark rectangular maw. She was in-between the brick wall and the metal slab of door, momentarily out of eyesight, and there were no lights on inside as far as Raph could tell. Not that that mattered much in daylight. But in the midst of trying to figure out why Cateyana would open a door that way, Raph's senses jackhammered into high alert.

Something bad was coming. He could feel it. And from the looks of it so could Mikey. Instinct had both of them pulling their weapons. Through what few shadows they had under the midday sun they maneuvered closer to the building, and Mikey twirled his nunchucks in preparation. No fancy stuff for Raph. He flipped one sai and held it by the tip, ready to launch it if necessary at whatever greeted Cateyana.

From inside the building a man appeared at the threshold. He stood boldly and had on combat boots, the type of camo clothing that went out of style decades ago, and a leather belt covered in eyelets. He also carried a knife. A pocket knife. Nothing Raph or Mikey couldn't handle, but a blade was a blade and Cateyana's wound hadn't healed yet. The guy was bigger than her and looked older too, maybe even old enough to be her father, but something was off about that comparison. The shape of his face was nothing like hers. No family resemblance.

Raph raised his arm and calculated the distance his sai would have to travel to get this guy if it came to that.

"Kit Kat," said the guy in singsong. He didn't sound like any New Yorker Raph ever heard. Didn't sound like Cateyana's slight accent either, even though the way they placed stress on their words was similar. The guy twirled the knife and tossed it from hand to hand. Then made kissy noises at the alley. This time he stretched out the singsong. " _Kit_ Kat. _Kit_ Kat."

Well whoever he was Raph didn't like him.

"No wonder she doesn't like it when I call her Kit Kat." Mikey caught his nunchucks under his biceps and shuddered. "My creepo-meter is off the charts with this guy. You don't think… you don't think he's her father do you?"

"I sure hope not." All Raph needed was a reason to throw his sai. He waited. "But whoever he is I ain't letting him touch her."

"I hear that," said Mikey.

They fell into companionable silence. Right now they had a common enemy and someone to protect. For the moment they didn't have the luxury of being squabbling brothers. They had to be ninja. So they were.

"I know you're there, Kit Kat." The guy jutted his chin at the door. "Save the suspense and come out to play."

Cateyana swung the door on its hinges. The guy jumped back to dodge, and the movement was fluid enough to show he was trained. Then Cateyana charged the guy, and for a split second Raph thought she might be charging toward being skewered, but instead of meeting the sharp end of the knife she feinted, caught the guy's arm and straight-up judo tossed him.

The guy rolled to his feet laughing. He'd been disarmed.

Cateyana sank into ready stance, newly acquired blade in hand. Raph would've been relieved if he didn't see the rigidness in her left side. That move might've torn her stitches.

"You're slow today Kit Kat," said the guy. "And you weren't here last night either. Maybe I should tell Gunther you're a liability."

"Maybe I should tell him you're a lying sack of shit."

If she could talk like that then maybe she didn't need their help after all. Raph glanced over at Mikey. They'd put themselves in positions to pinch the guy, and Raph was closer to Cateyana. Mikey signaled that it was Raph's decision whatever they did. The lay of the buildings swathed them in shade.

Cateyana had a weapon now, obviously knew how to defend herself, and back at the Lair conversations with her had been like pulling teeth, so Raph shook his head at Mikey. They'd stay out of this until it was absolutely necessary to intervene. Maybe if they eavesdropped they'd learn something useful for later.

Like for example who this Gunther guy was.

Raph had the sudden realization he was thinking like Leo.

"Ooo." The guy waggled his fingers. "I'm so scared."

"You should be, Savvy."

So this one's name was Savvy.

Savvy snorted.

Cateyana's expression went icy. She adjusted her weight distribution and her stance's form improved.

"Gunther's little Kitty Kat's all yowl no scratch." Savvy removed his belt and circled his hands to get a firm grip on each end. "Sounds to me like she needs a new collar."

That made it official. This guy was begging to be taken out.

Raph threw his sai. It sailed past Cateyana and she flinched aside as it headed for its target. For a split-second Savvy's eyes went wide, but then he was catching the sai's tip in one of his belt's eyelets and changing his stance to redirect it. Mikey took out Savvy's legs before he could and brought a nunchuck down hard where Savvy fell sprawled. Savvy rolled out of the way and was up on his feet quick, using his belt like a whip to counter. The sai tumbled down and hit concrete with a scrape and two clinks.

Mikey parried Savvy's belt and dodged until he could find an opening to fling Raph's sai back to its rightful owner. Didn't take long.

Raph front-flipped to catch his weapon. "Thanks Mikey."

"Anytime, bro!"

Raph advanced on Savvy and on the way passed Cateyana.

"What—" Cateyana's voice shook but it still carried over the barrage of Mikey and Savvy's parries and strikes. "Why!"

Savvy danced back and blocked all he could. Guy was slippery, Raph would give him that. And durable. So Raph joined the fray. He and Mikey fell into a familiar rhythm, opening up their opponent for each other and taking each opportunity. Savvy managed to deflect most of what they threw at him.

It was starting to get on Raph's nerves.

"After all that stuff you told us back at the Lair," said Mikey between nunchuck twirls and blows. "Did you really think we'd let you wander off by yourself?"

After a strike Mikey got in on his chest Savvy gritted his teeth, but Raph could swear it was a grin not a grimace.

"You don't know what you've done," whispered Cateyana.

"Lair?" Savvy crouched low. "Sounds promising." He swept out Raph's ankles, and in the time it took Raph to regain his center Savvy got one of Mikey's nunchucks tangled up in his belt.

Mikey countered with a roundhouse to Savvy's wrist.

Savvy dropped the belt on that side, which freed Mikey's weapon. And gave Raph an opening. He took it and tackled Savvy to the ground. Concrete skidded against Raph's shins as he brought up a fist full of sai to bring down on Savvy's face. Then he felt Savvy's hips torque and was thrown off balance.

So this Savvy guy knew how to grapple. Great.

Raph flipped his sai backward so the street met handle instead of blade.

Just great.

Worst place to be was close range with a grappler. Raph let go of Savvy and hoped Mikey was ready to go on the offensive. Savvy rose and Raph tumbled back while Mikey sprinted forward.

Mikey always had been the quickest turtle and right now he was proving it. He gained ground fast on Savvy, who frowned in concentration and barely managed deflect what Mikey threw at him. But sheesh! For a human this guy was tough.

Raph placed himself in front of Cateyana.

"I was trying to keep you out of this." Her breath hitched, and Raph told himself when this was all over he'd drag her back to Donnie and make sure the Brainiac's next batch of stitches stuck. He'd sit on Cateyana if he had to. No more running off.

"Well we're in it now."

Mikey landed a real nice hit to Savvy's collarbone. With a pained grunt and a fit of coughs Savvy stumbled back. He dropped his belt during Mikey's relentless advance and reached into a side pouch of his camo getup. What Savvy pulled out was a vial full of some kind of sloshing liquid. He pitched the vial at Mikey.

No, not at Mikey. At where Mikey's nunchuck was about to swing.

Cateyana raised her voice. "Dodge that!"

Savvy hopped out of range.

It was too late for Mikey to alter his momentum. The nunchuck hit the vial, the vial spilled its liquid, and that liquid splashed all over Mikey's arm.

"Gross, gross!" Mikey whined and jumped away from Savvy, flailing his arm to get the liquid off. The stuff clung to Mikey with a stubbornness that would've been impressive if it weren't so nasty. Raph agreed with Mikey's assessment.

Cateyana sprinted for the door.

"Hey!" Raph had no choice but to follow her. She was headed right into Savvy's range. "Where you think you're going?"

"To solve a problem," answered Cateyana.

Savvy tossed another vial at Raph but he heeded Cateyana's warning and dodged. The vial shattered right at the threshold but luckily Cateyana had already made it inside. She darted down the corridor and Raph leapt over the spilt liquid and kept at her heels.

The inside of the building was just as run down as the outside. No lights, as Raph had assumed.

"So you ran in here to solve a problem," said Raph. "That problem being what exactly?"

"Savvy keeps those vials filled with poison."

"Say _what?!_ " Thoughts of Mikey convulsing or vomiting or whatever else poison did to a turtle overcame Raph's senses. He went rage blind and only came out of it because Cateyana rounded a corner and he had to keep his sights on her. He sprinted faster, using wall as much as floor to propel himself forward.

The room Cateyana entered reminded Raph of Don's lab. She tiptoed through the dark around equipment and canisters and tangled wires to reach the back wall. There she crouched down and dug through stacks of beakers and sealed mason jars. She squinted at labels and triple-checked before putting anything aside, treating each item as if it were viable to explode if she even so much as looked at it wrong.

"Tell me you're finding an antidote." Raph tried to be demanding but he couldn't keep the tremor out of his voice. If anything happened to Mikey he didn't know what he'd do.

"That's exactly what I'm doing." An eternity later Cateyana settled on a mason jar filled to the brim with black viscous liquid. "I don't know which poison was in that vial but this is the cure-all. Tell Mikey to drink it."

Raph didn't need to be told that twice. He snatched the mason jar out of her hands. "You sure this'll work?"

"Yes."

"How much I give him?"

"A sip or two. And clean off any residue from that vial. Savvy's poisons absorb through the skin." She grunted when she rose to her feet, a slight wheeze filling out her noise of exertion. "I'll grab Anansi and head back wherever you want me to go. But get that cure-all to Mikey first. I don't know the incubation time of what Savvy threw."

Raph didn't like it one bit but he did what she told him to do. Outside in the alley he found Mikey doubled over and panting.

Savvy was nowhere.


	7. Purple Dragon Dynamics

Purple Dragon headquarters wasn't supposed to be like this. It had been a while since Dragon Face stepped foot inside the abandoned warehouse, but the most recent changes jarred him. Where there once was a boxing ring there now were three long tables, the soup kitchen kind, all in a row, bland and rickety. And the floor was different. Before, the cement had been cracked and scuffed with wear, painted over with Purple Dragon insignias and all manner of other street art that accommodated each and every scrape and pothole into its design. Now it was a boring slate gray. Dragon Face looked over to the back wall, where Max's mural was supposed to be, and found the mural gone. Layers and layers of white paint had erased it.

What a disgrace. Way back when that mural was how Max had celebrated his initiation and it was a work of art if Dragon Face had ever seen one. To paint over it was sacrilege. But from the way things were going Dragon Face knew what was once sacred to the Purple Dragons was no longer. Now Basilisk called all the shots, and he had a different vision.

Dragon Face would really love to know what that different vision was because at the moment it seemed like all Basilisk wanted to do was to remove what made the Purple Dragons who they were. To steal their individuality, their personality. It was like he was sucking the soul out of everything. How dare the warehouse have color. Ooo.

Guy was as bad as the cops if Dragon Face had anything to say about it. But of course he didn't because that's not how the gang worked anymore. No one ruffled feathers without fearing for their lives. Or in Dragon Face's case, fearing for the lives of his crew. Basilisk had already done a fine job thinning their numbers and covered up his involvement with "accidents." At least Max was still around. Max was a real Purple Dragon through and through.

In fact the only reason Dragon Face was here in the first place was because Max asked him to attend Basilisk's meeting. Dragon Face himself hadn't gotten an invitation but Max did say the whole gang was supposedly supposed to be here. Dragon Face crossed his arms and regretted showing up on account of the warehouse didn't feel like home anymore.

Even the scent of the place, the combined odors of spray paint and cold metal piping and warm worn leather, had been replaced by the smells of wooden crates and that elastic scent of stretched plastic. Basilisk had increased the the Purple Dragon armory but at the cost of all they stood for.

There was one thing that hadn't changed. The microphone that used to hang down over the middle of the boxing ring was still there. Only difference was it was above one of the long tables now. That's where Basilisk sat hunched with dangling legs, along with the Purple Dragons who'd gained his favor. They were mostly newbies.

It turned Dragon Face's stomach. The gang's old blood, including his crew's few remaining survivors, milled around and shuffled their feet. Max stood by his painted over mural and gave Dragon Face a nod of greeting then stared at the floor. The aimless way everyone meandered made them look like they were all walking on eggshells. But they shouldn't have to walk on eggshells on their own turf. Dragon Face wanted to break something, smash something and watch it shatter against the wall, watch it crumble, if only to bring some life back into his family. But there was nothing within reach.

Basilisk climbed up on the table and grabbed the mic. It screeched feedback that caused everyone to wince before they faced him. But no one dared groan.

Except Dragon Face.

No one could blame him. It was an awful sound.

"My comrades," said Basilisk in a somber tone. "Today I bear some tragic news." He sounded fake as a politician. "Last night, during our would-be newest member's final stage of initiation, we lost Joseph."

Some had already heard, or been there at the scene, but this was news to Dragon Face. _Lost_ , he thought. _Lost how?_

"The one who took his life—"

 _Shit! That kind of lost?_

"—was wearing a turtle costume."

 _Costumed freak! I'm gonna—_

"I must also bring to your attention that Jane, aforementioned newest initiate, has failed to pass her final test. She chickened out, turned her back on us. And then that turtle came to her aid. It's only logical to conclude they were working together, and that she planned the assault."

 _Jane? That don't seem like something she'd do._

"That ain't what I heard," said Max. All eyes turned to him. He sniffed dismissively. "Way I heard it Jane was backing out and Joseph shot first."

"Who told you that, man?" Basilisk brought the mic closer to his mouth and his voice might've been level but the octave sank. "You weren't there when all this went down."

"I'm just saying." Max shrugged. "Those kung fu lizards do whatever they want. They don't follow no orders. And maybe girly wanted out but she wouldn't throw nobody under a bus."

"So you're saying you trust a failed initiate more than your fellow Dragons?"

Dragon Face felt the crowd about face to side with Basilisk. All but the oldest blood, and they were on the fence.

"I'm saying we gotta keep the story straight." Max had that tic of his mouth that meant he'd go into nervous laughter soon. He always did that when he got in over his head. His throat jittered with the effort of keeping it contained and his voice went all whiny. "For Joseph. To honor his memory."

"Honor his memory," said Basilisk.

"Yeah."

"Who else wants to honor Joseph's memory?" Basilisk beseeched them all with one arm and spun around so the mic made his voice reverberate off the walls.

The crowd roared.

"Know what would honor Joseph's memory?" This time Basilisk's voice went even deeper. "An eye for an eye. We get some new recruits. And then we put that turtle on the chopping block."

Well. If nothing else, Dragon Face couldn't argue with that. He hated those costumed freaks.

"And Jane too, before she goes off to the authorities and squeals."

Now that Dragon Face had a problem with. One look at Max said he did too. And that little exchange of glances, that tiny tell between the two of them, caught Basilisk's attention.

"Dragon Face!" Basilisk pointed his way. "Word is you were the one who tried to recruit that girl with the purple dreads the first time. What was her name, Angel? I had my guys extend her another offer but, wouldn't you know it, she declined. Maybe you could get through to her. How about it, man?"

"I dunno." Dragon Face knew Angel was under Casey's protection. You didn't touch someone with street cred like that. Besides, Dragon Face wasn't about to have a repeat of that first recruitment effort. He hadn't forgotten that Angel ran with the turtles. Back then the one with the nunchucks had cracked him in the ribs. Took him weeks to heal.

"For Joseph," said Basilisk. "He was one of yours. Part of your crew."

"There's no way to get through to that Angel girl." Dragon Face did not want to do this. Nu uh. "She don't want this life. She made that clear the first time. It's more trouble to recruit her than it's worth."

"You'd think you'd be jumping at this chance I'm giving you." Basilisk shook his head with either disapproval or disappointment, Dragon Face couldn't tell.

"Huh?"

"Well," said Basilisk. "Since I've been a part of this family, which hasn't been very long mind you, I've seen your first recruit wind up dead and your second side with the enemy. It disturbs me you seem so unperturbed about your current state of affairs."

"Unperwhat?" Max scratched at his temple.

Dragon Face could feel his blood start to boil.

"And you know," said Basilisk. "I could make it easier for you. Tell you a way to twist her arm so she never disobeys. So she's loyal no matter how she feels. Purple Dragons should be loyal. Wouldn't you agree?"

 _A true member of this family is loyal to what the Purple Dragon represents, not to you._

"So maybe she didn't respond to us putting her brother in the hospital," said Basilisk. "Okay. Didn't work. Need something new. But if I've got good intel, she's still got a grandmother. Who doesn't want what's best for their grandmother?"

"Hey." Max spat onto the floor in distaste. "We don't sink that low. We got a code."

Basilisk erupted in laughter.

"You think that's funny," said Dragon Face.

"Oh I think it's hilarious. A code? You?" Basilisk paced so casually up there on the table. His throne, his stage. "Enlighten me. What is it you think you are? New York's eccentric artists? Modern day Robin Hoods? Oh wait, can't be that. No one cares about your street art and you never give anything back. You're criminals. And if you weren't before then you are now. I've seen proof enough of that. I _have_ proof enough of that."

The mood of the crowd became a mix of indignation and shame. Dragon Face wanted to take a pipe and bash Basilisk's head in. The oldest blood kept to the outskirts of the warehouse, probably weighing their options, and the newer blood was going along with Basilisk either out of fear or actual agreement. Max stood right by Dragon Face. Just like old times they shared their defiance.

"So here's what you're going to do," said Basilisk. "You're going to find Angel, and you're going to threaten her grandmother, and if she doesn't cooperate then you're going to follow through on that threat. And if you don't walk out of here right now and take care of it, I'm going to put a target on your back. So I suggest you get going."

Not like Dragon Face had a choice. He left. Max followed him out. When they were a good ways away from the warehouse Max finally let go of his nervous laughter. It came out all at once, bubbly and manic, so that Max wound up sounding like a lunatic.

"Tell me something," said Dragon Face between Max's _hahahas_. "I already got a target on my back don't I?"

"Yeah," said Max once he got ahold of himself. "There's a rumor girly's final test was to get rid of you."

"And she backed out?"

"That much I know is true."

"Hmm."

"Hey, Dragon Face. You uh. Think maybe she's in trouble?"

"You're kidding. If there's one thing I know about Jane it's she can handle herself. I pity anyone who tries aiming at the target on _her_ back."

###

Leo didn't know where Angel lived exactly, but he did know how to get to Casey's place. After that awkward breakfast with Cateyana he was paranoid, but by the time Leo left the Lair it was already noon. He had to book it across rooftops to make better time and climb through Casey's window. Casey, being Casey, wasn't awake yet. Leo found him sprawled across his bed with the covers on the floor. His snoring could give Raph's a run for its money.

"Morning sunshine." When Leo's gentler tone didn't work he kicked it up a notch. "Casey!"

Casey scrambled out of bed and tripped but somehow also managed to grab a baseball bat and start swinging on the way down.

Leo stood out of range and watched him flail.

Casey got his bearings. Or, most of them anyway. "Jeez Raph! We talked about this. You can't go sneaking up on m—oh it's Leo." Casey set the baseball bat aside and straightened out his muscle shirt. "Uh. Hi. Something going down with the guys?"

"Sort of. It's complicated. But I was wondering when was the last time you checked in on Angel."

"Angel? Did I get the days mixed up? I thought it was you who was supposed to be checking in on her."

"Right. Well. I did, but."

"So what's the problem? She get into trouble already? Wait a sec. Did she give you lip?"

"Well. Sort of. I mean no. The lip part not the trouble part. The trouble part I'm still not sure about."

Casey made the most confused expression a human could make. So basically his normal face but with added concern.

"She didn't give me any lip." Leo scrambled to get back to his point. "Anyway if she did then I deserved it, but that's not why I'm—"

"She did didn't she?" Casey clenched a fist but Leo knew he didn't mean anything by it. He was probably just grouchy because he got woken up. "That Angel! It's like her grandma always says, she's got a good heart but a smart mouth. I always said she oughtta clean it out with soap."

"Right." Leo had to get Casey to focus or they'd never get anywhere. "Hygiene aside, the reason I'm here is I don't think hospital visiting hours started yet and I got word it's not just Angel's brother who's in deep with the Purple Dragons."

That did the trick. Casey turned instantly awake and serious. He went around the apartment gathering sports equipment. Plus his trademark hockey mask.

"So I was hoping you could tell me where her grandmother's house is," said Leo. "So I could check up on them. Just in case."

"Lemme guess. You got a bad feeling about all this?"

Leo nodded.

"Well then." Casey shouldered his bag of gear. "What're we waiting for? Let's go make sure Angel don't got it in her head to do anything stupid after what happened last time."

Seemed Leo trusted Angel's judgement a lot more than Casey did, but Leo also knew the kinds of things he himself might do if any of his family were threatened. The boundaries he might stretch. The rules he might bend. It didn't paint a pretty picture. He had to keep Angel from doing anything she'd regret, no matter the reasons. No matter how much she might try to justify it later.

That sinking feeling got worse.

Angel's judgement wouldn't make a difference if the Purple Dragons didn't give her a choice.

When he and Casey reached an alley nearby Angel's grandmother's house, Leo's senses kicked into high alert. He grabbed Casey by the shoulder and yanked him under better cover.

"What gives?"

"Wait. Something's wrong here."

"Wrong like what? There ain't nothing over there. It's just Angel's grandma's house. We ain't even in a bad part of town."

"I can't explain it. Just. There's something not right about this place."

"What? Got a problem with the décor or something?"

Angel's grandmother lived in standard housing. Nicer than Casey's place but far from the nicest digs in New York. Middle class but nothing special. She had a first floor condo. From Leo and Casey's vantage point across the street, Leo could see Angel's grandmother sitting in a rocking chair. She had a crochet project on her lap. Other than a few windows being open, nothing was amiss on the surface.

But Leo learned a long time ago that the things you have to worry about were rarely if ever on the surface.

A man in uniform came up the walk and knocked on the door.

Casey tilted his head. "Think that cop has a lead on the scumbag what shot Angel's brother?"

"I dunno, Casey. Maybe." Leo hoped that's all this visit was about.

The open window provided a square of visibility that allowed him to see Angel walking past her grandmother on the way to answer the door. It should've made Leo feel better. Instead, a sense of urgency shot through him.

Angel opened the door.

The cop tipped his hat. The two of them exchanged words.

Angel opened the door wider to let the cop inside.

Something was wrong about this. But what? Leo tried to quell his paranoia. He told himself there was no reason to be alarmed. Police presence meant Angel and her grandmother were out of danger, not in the midst of it. But while Angel and her grandmother entertained the cop with conversation, Leo noticed a presence in the alley behind Casey. Leo unsheathed a katana and spun around, which startled Casey into stumbling backward and knocking over a trash can, and the both of them came face to face with two Purple Dragons.

One was Dragon Face. The other one's name Leo didn't know.

The trash can spilled its guts all over the alley then rolled to a stop by Leo's foot.

"It's that vigilante guy and one of the freaks!" The Purple Dragon with the blue hair and the nose ring slapped his forehead and whined dramatically. "I knew this was a bad idea. They're gonna clobber us."

"Can it, Max." Dragon Face scowled. "We agreed. No turning back."

"Okay." Casey pulled a hockey stick out of his golf bag and struck it against the palm of his hand over and over at a steady rhythm. "You goons got two seconds to explain why you're sneaking around Angel's grandma's place."

Leo pointed his katana at them and narrowed his eyes in his best imitation of Raph.

"It ain't what it looks like," said Dragon Face. "We're here to warn her. Them. Warn them."

"Warn them?" Leo lowered his katana so the tip pointed at Dragon Face's heart instead of his head.

"Since when do Purple Dragons care about warning anyone of anything?" Casey glared. "I ain't buying it. C'mon Leo, let's teach these lowlifes how we feel about liars."

Dragon Face's scowl deepened. Max looked ready to retreat.

"Casey." Leo thought back to all that Cateyana had told him back at the Lair. If everything she said was true then things with the Purple Dragons might be more complicated than before. The dissent in the ranks meant Max and Dragon Face could be sincere. Leo couldn't believe he was saying this, but he had to. "Maybe we should hear them out."

"Leo! You can't be serious!"

"I can and am."

Casey threw his arms up. The resemblance to Raph was uncanny.

"Dragon Face and Max, wasn't it?" Leo raised his katana. "Talk."

Max let out a laugh that sounded nervous but not dishonest. It wasn't exactly talking, but it made him feel more like a person to Leo than just some random punk. For everyone's sake, Leo hoped these two weren't about to try and pull one over on him and Casey. But if they did try anything then Leo was ready. This wouldn't be like last time. He'd make sure of it. His swords would make sure of it.

"Purple Dragons ain't what they used to be," said Dragon Face.

"I'll say," said Casey.

"Let them talk," said Leo.

Casey huffed.

"My point is," said Dragon Face. "There's a new leader. We don't like him calling the shots. Any Purple Dragon worth his salt hates his guts."

"And let me guess," said Leo. "This new leader you hate goes by Basilisk?"

"Hey." Max regained his composure. "How'd you know that?"

So Cateyana had been telling the truth.

"Well la dee da." Casey got all up in Dragon Face's face and his words practically bled sarcasm. "Guess you twos is real heroes now, going behind your leader's back to warn Angel uh." Casey got confused. "Hey what was it you was gonna warn her about anyways?"

"Basilisk ain't above threatening people's grandmas," said Dragon Face. "Max and me got a problem with that. So we were stopping by to give Angel and her grandma a warning. Tell them to head outta town."

"So hurting people's grandmas is outta the question but when it's a brother it's okay?" Casey whacked the alley wall with his hockey stick. A threat. "That's some backward logic you got there, Dragon Face. If you really cared about Angel's wellbeing you woulda said something when it was her brother on the line and not wait 'til now."

Dragon Face eyed the hockey stick.

Max gulped.

Leo analyzed the Purple Dragons' tiniest movements. Neither had gone on the offensive. Which lent credibility to their story but didn't solve the current dilemma. Stand here and listen or keep good eyes on Angel.

"Anyway if your story is true, which it's not, you losers is too late. See?" Casey pointed toward the window. "They already got a cop inside. Too bad your little warning ain't needed."

"Cop?" Something in Dragon Face's expression told Leo to check on Angel. Be more observant.

So Leo did, and what he saw past the window was Angel backing up with her arms in the air. Her grandmother dropped the crochet to do the same. The cop wasn't visible but it was obvious someone was pointing a gun at them.

"Whaddya mean," said Max. "You didn't know? The cops around here are crooked."

"Word on the street is," said Dragon Face. "Basilisk paid them off."


	8. Retrieving Anansi

On paper Cateyana's plan was simple. Get to her designated area, grab Anansi, get out. Hope Savvy's cure-all worked on a mutant turtle. In practice that plan became more complicated. Fact was she had torn her stitches back there when she tossed Savvy to get her knife back, and she was feeling the pain all down her arm and up across her shoulder, even in her neck. But whatever. Pain she was used to. It was the fact her left side wasn't moving the way she wanted that got on her nerves. Not having full range of motion was dangerous.

Savvy specialized in drugs. Her father specialized in bombs.

Cateyana didn't want to knock into one of those. She didn't think there would be any actually armed, but she wasn't about to take any chances. She crept through the place like a burglar. Quick and cautious, minding her wounded arm. She made more noise than she intended.

When she got to her designated area, which instead of a room was a section separated from the rest of the run-down place by a sheer curtain, she found a brick in the middle of her things. Under the brick the fuzzy leg of a tarantula poked out at a broken angle.

 _Squashed,_ thought Cateyana before any emotion could hit. _Anansi got squashed._

This trip had been pointless.

Then all at once _who the fuck killed my tarantula I bet it was Savvy that fucker I'm going to fucking murder him I'm going to use a cinder block and his own poisons and that fucking belt of his and I'm going to take my time._

There was a catch in her chest as her thoughts derailed and she clogged up with loss. She sniffled.

 _Anansi._

Cateyana sank down to lift the brick. She had to see the corpse. She didn't know why. But she had to. She lifted the brick.

There wasn't any fluid. No guts. Just the flattened exoskeleton.

The hope that fluttered around in her chest caught her off guard and she didn't trust it, but an exoskeleton without any guts meant it might not be Anansi. It might be Anansi's molt. She scanned the rest of her things. On the floor her jeans were folded and stacked neatly by clumps of hoodies and an extra pair of off brand purple converse. Tank tops were all over the place in a haphazard fashion, and paperback crime thrillers with their spines bent back and worn, pages smooshed down instead of bookmarked, seasoned the space. Cateyana liked those because the authors got it wrong. The good guys usually won. Instead of a mattress she had a mismatched pile of blankets all in a rumple, and that didn't seem as if it had been disturbed since she was last here.

She held her breath and held off on any relief until her gaze fell to Anansi's jar and it was empty.

 _Escaped,_ she thought. _Not squashed. Escaped!_

She smiled, wiped her eyes.

 _That's my fuzzy trickster. You've done your namesake proud._

Of course then the problem became finding a tarantula that didn't want to be found. On a time crunch. In the middle of the place Cateyana least wanted to be. On the plus side she was armed. She had a knife and a brick.

She sat back on her haunches and went down the list of things a tarantula would find comforting. Warmth. Darkness. Dryness. Somewhere familiar?

Her blankets. She grunted and made her way over to her blankets. Then carefully, making sure to apply only the softest pressure to any creases her fingers found, she searched. When she lifted the final blanket Anansi scampered backward and stuck its front feet up in the air. Tarantula-speak for _if you try and eat me I'll jump on your face!_

Cateyana let out an amused puff of breath. "Jeez. Don't scare me like that." She grabbed Anansi's jar, which was a miniature terrarium, a sort of ecosystem in itself with holes in the lid for air, and began coaxing Anansi into the opening. She used the lid to nudge. It took some doing, but after a while Anansi obliged. Then tucked in its legs as Cateyana spun the lid closed. She counted her blessings that she'd left the jar open while she was gone.

Wait. Had she?

"You didn't come home last night," said her father.

Cateyana spun around, automatically moving Anansi's jar behind her back. She felt a tremble all through her but she contained it. She slammed down her emotional mask.

"Where were you?" Her father's presence dwarfed her, but only because Cateyana herself was younger and petite. Gunther Williams was an opportunistic man of average height. He had hair like a skunk, gray up top and dark everywhere else.

"Out."

"Out?"

Cateyana stonewalled him. Her heart was pounding but she dared not show it. He'd use that fear against her.

"What are you hiding?" It was Savvy who taught Cateyana physical combat, but her father taught her how to wage psychological wars. His mouth twisted into a smirk. He was having fun with her. "Is my good little girl doing something she might regret?"

She knew then it wasn't Savvy who squished Anansi's molt.

###

Mikey didn't look so good. He was doubled over groaning and didn't have any witty remarks. Apparently he didn't even have the energy to complain, which was what really worried Raph. So Raph held up the mason jar full of disgusting cure-all and hoped for the best.

"Here, Mikey. Take a swig of this. Cateyana said it's some kind of antidote."

Mikey turned his face up to peer at the black viscous liquid. His expression said _ewww_ and Raph couldn't blame him. Stuff looked about as gross as it could get. He'd hate to think how it might taste.

"You must be nuts if you think I'd willingly take a swig of that," said Mikey.

"I'll cram it down your throat if I have to."

"No no no." Mikey's eyes widened. "You wouldn't!"

"If you don't want me to then don't make me."

"Raph." Mikey tried to straighten out, made a pitiful noise halfway up, and curled back over himself. He took a few breaths and Raph recognized the pattern of inhales and exhales. It was how Master Splinter taught them to deal with pain. When Mikey spoke again his voice was a bit more even but it still had that indignant whine to it. "I hate to be like Leo here but you're really not thinking this through. We don't even know what's in that stuff. And just looking at it makes me wanna gag."

World must be ending because Mikey had a point. But what else were they supposed to do? Raph trusted his gut and his gut trusted Cateyana, and anyway whatever that Savvy guy had dosed Mikey with it was pretty bad from the looks of it. But Raph didn't really want to cram that nasty cure-all stuff down Mikey's throat. Okay, maybe a little. But not enough to follow through on that impulse.

"If you're really that set on me drinking this stuff," said Mikey between wheezes. "Then can't we wait and talk to Donnie? He can come up with something. He always comes up with something. Ugh. I wish he were here. He'd be real useful right about now."

Raph reached out and steadied him. "How you doing, bro?" Mikey's skin felt like fire. What kind of poison spread through someone's system that fast? If Don didn't know, then maybe Master Splinter would. Raph was at the point where he agreed with Mikey on this one. They'd hold off on the cure-all. "It bad?"

"I feel like my shell's turned inside out."

Well that certainly didn't sound too good. Must be awful. Honestly the fact Mikey wasn't wasting energy to complain should've been Raph's first clue. Not to mention, where the shell was Cateyana? She was taking forever in there. It occurred to Raph she might've run into more trouble. That or maybe she was taking her sweet time collecting her pet. Raph shuddered at the thought. A tarantula of all things. But he had to make a decision. Mikey needed him out here but she might need him in there just as bad.

"Man," whined Mikey. "What's taking Cateyana so long? What's she even doing in there?"

"She said she had to go grab her pet tarantula."

Mikey stared at the door.

Raph stared too.

As Mikey's head drooped and he sank into a lower stance, Raph realized a bit late it was because Mikey's legs had failed him. With a quick snatch of an arm Raph anchored himself as a crutch under Mikey to keep him from sinking the rest of the way. One of Mikey's veins thumped so fast against Raph's neck he got concerned Mikey's heart might wear itself out. He gritted his teeth and stared at the door thinking _come on, come on, come on. Hurry it up in there!_

Mikey took the mason jar of cure-all in trembling fingers and inspected it with a frown.

"Alright, that's it." Raph hoisted Mikey to get a better grip on him and pulled one sai. "We're going in after her. You good for that? I ain't leaving you out here in the open."

"Yeah," said Mikey with an amount of effort that didn't instill much confidence. "I… think I can handle that. Long as we don't run into any more of those rude poison-slinging welcoming parties."

"We'll stick to the shadows." Raph fit a smug tease into his tone in an effort to comfort Mikey with normalcy. "Just for you, bro. Since it looks like your legs ain't working."

Mikey pitched his voice up and stoked the melodrama. "Oh my! You're too kind for this invalid!"

"The invalid gonna thank me?"

"Can we just get this over with? I'm poisoned here."

They entered silently and crept with purpose through the building's shadows.

###

Cateyana didn't reveal her rage. That would've tipped her hand. This was either a play on her emotions or another of her father's impromptu tests. The point was to not be bothered. To her father, a man who had proven time and again he was incapable of empathy, this had to be a game. If Cateyana took it seriously she'd lose. She revealed Anansi's jar and made a show of looking into the glass.

Anansi's leg twitched.

 _Sorry Anansi._ _I have to act like I don't care. If he knows I care he'll squash you for real._

"Your aim's off." She pointed at the brick on the floor, to the squashed molt beside it.

Her father chuckled. He went over and stooped. He picked up the brick.

Cateyana slipped her free hand into her pocket. She had a lot of practice opening the knife inside her pocket, and that's what she did. She wasn't above stabbing her own father. In fact she'd like to. He deserved it. _Make a move,_ she was thinking. _Lunge for me. Try to take Anansi._

 _Give me an excuse._

A memory circumvented her thoughts. She remembered a conversation with Max. It bombarded her brain and demanded attention.

 _They were in the middle of the warehouse Purple Dragons called home. They heard the boxing ring was going to be moved, so she and Max had a spar as its send-off. At the time all Cateyana wanted was to work off some stress. She sparred harder than he did._

" _Yeesh, girly!" Max panted. "Where you learn to fight like that?"_

 _Cateyana shrugged._

" _Got no problem handling yourself," said Max. "Whaddya need us Purple Dragons for?"_

" _Maybe I'm out for revenge." Maybe I'm sick of being used. Maybe I want to belong. Could I do that here? Belong?_

 _Max made this dull expression that was honestly kind of endearing. The question was clear but he nonetheless voiced it. "Revenge against who?"_

" _Guy who ruined my life."_

" _What he do?"_

" _I just said. Ruined my life."_

" _So. What? Want us to ruin his?"_

 _Ruin, she'd thought at the time. An anticipation of future satisfaction renewed her energy and she stood taller. It was like some part of her soul had returned._

 _Not kill._ _ **Ruin.**_

You didn't ruin a criminal by killing them. You ruined them by killing their operation.

Cateyana couldn't let her anger over Anansi take control. She watched her father turn the brick over in hand, and inside her pocket she closed her knife.

"So," said her father. "Why didn't you come home last night?"

"Maybe I wanted to see how long you'd wait to look for me."

"Don't cop that attitude with me."

 _I am a wall._ Cateyana didn't emote. _I am impenetrable._

"I know you're up to something." Her father held the brick and stared her down. His gaze fell to Anansi's jar. To Anansi. "Tell me what and I'll make it an easier punishment."

"Do you miss mom?" Cateyana picked this topic on purpose. _You want psychological warfare?_ She knew how her father worked. He might know her buttons, but she also knew his. _Fine._ She took that grief she'd felt when she first thought Anansi got squashed and condensed it into waterworks. Then she turned her eyes upward like she was trying to conceal the tears. _Game's afoot._ "Sometimes I miss her, you know. You remember she liked the nighttime sky?"

"No. I don't."

"She liked to see the stars." The most convincing lies contain some truth.

"I do remember that."

"Since she's gone now I thought it might be okay." _Push it but not too far. Almost cry. Almost._ Cateyana wiped at the corner of one eye. "To go and see some stars."

"In a city full of smog."

"I lost track of time."

Her father's grip on the brick loosened. In fact his whole posture loosened. The thing about her father, the thing that gave Cateyana an advantage, was that even though he had no empathy for others he had plenty for himself. So if a person could remind him of himself, if they mimicked the outward expressions of what he felt, that person could convince him the emotion was sincere. Manipulation 101: mirror your opponent.

"Cateyana, little girl." Her father sighed. Then tutted and walked closer with the brick. Rage rolled off of him, raw power, furious intent. "You think I don't know when you're hiding the truth? Don't forget."

Cateyana winced.

"I'm the one who taught you to lie."


	9. Daddy Issues

As Raph half-dragged Mikey through the building, he remarked it was lucky there was so much damage and clutter. Lots of cast shadows, even midday. It gave a ninja plenty of opportunities for stealth. Even though there wasn't anyone around as they trekked through the halls and in and out of rooms, he and Mikey used all Master Splinter's training to keep hidden. With Mikey the way he was they couldn't afford to be reckless.

When they reached a bigger room a sheer curtain billowed out in a breeze that came in through one of the nearby cracked windows. Beyond the curtain, blurry thanks to the grain and folds of the sheet, was Cateyana. And some other guy who held a brick in one hand. Cateyana was holding a jar. A snippet of their conversation drifted to Raph as he yanked Mikey out of sight.

"I'm the one who taught you to lie."

"Maybe I joined a gang," said Cateyana. It was subtle, but Raph saw her twist her torso and shift her weight. She moved the jar to where she could block it from the guy's brick in a pinch if she had to. "Maybe I was gone because I had initiation to attend."

"You expect me to believe that?"

"It's the truth."

"Who were you informing? What did you tell them?"

"If I were informing anyone then I wouldn't be here. You know that."

The guy kept the brick at his side and reached out his other arm. "Jar. Now."

Cateyana bristled.

Raph took his eyes off her and the guy for a moment too peer into the jar. Inside it there was a fuzzy brown thing. Twitching. Scuttling. He couldn't contain the shiver that worked its way through him. Bug. Giant eight-legged bug with too many eyes. Why couldn't she have picked a more normal pet? A hamster or a gerbil or something?

Mikey groaned. Sounded involuntary but it put Raph on alert. Even the smallest sound might give them away. He slapped a hand over Mikey's mouth and Mikey's skin was still hot to the touch. The look Mikey gave him was an apology. Raph removed his hand and made a shushing motion.

Mikey did an impression of zipping his lips.

"What was that?" asked the guy.

"What was what," said Cateyana.

"Stay there. I'll deal with you in a minute."

Footsteps came closer. They halted near Raph and Mikey's hiding spot.

Raph twirled a sai. Despite his condition Mikey readied a nunchuck, but Raph didn't want him anywhere near whoever this guy was so he crowded Mikey further into the corner and got ready to block. They still had enough wiggle room to circle around and take this guy's back if the need arose, but Raph wanted to know who he was first.

"Maybe I did inform someone," said Cateyana.

The footsteps scuffed in a manner that suggested the guy had spun around to face her. Now Raph did have his back.

"Maybe I told a giant turtle."

"You're trying my patience."

"Because that's how plausible it is for me to inform anyone."

"Remember what I said about that attitude of yours."

"Dad, look—"

So this was Cateyana's father. Gunther Williams, in the flesh. Raph failed to see the resemblance.

"Shut your goddamn mouth," said Gunther.

Cateyana shut her mouth.

Gunther's back was still turned on him, so Raph took the opportunity to move. He came up from behind and put a sai to Gunther's throat. When Raph did that to most people they went stiff, or jolted in surprise, or screamed. Sometimes they even pissed themselves. Gunther went straight into a countermove. He bashed the brick into Raph's knuckles, a glancing blow thanks to Raph's reflexes, but one that made him _angry._

Raph kicked Gunther. Hard, but it turned out to be a near miss.

Gunther rolled to the floor then across it and right back up to his feet. He put his guard up and rose into a ready stance. The brick lay midway between them. Now that he had the chance to face Gunther head-on, Raph could see the Williams family resemblance. Gunther's eyes were the same honeyed color as his daughter's. Combined with a similar face structure and that skunk-pattern hair, the whole thing was unnerving. Because one look at this Gunther guy and Raph could tell he was nasty as they come. It was weird seeing bits of Cateyana hidden in a person like him.

"So you hired some freak in a turtle costume just to prove a point." Gunther shook his head and sounded, more than anything, disappointed. Like Cateyana had failed to pass some kind of test by hiring the wrong guy for the job. That was real rich considering Raph wasn't the type of turtle to ever be hired by _anyone._

"I'll show you freak, whack-bag!" Raph hurled a sai at Gunther, who ducked out the way, and it sailed past him straight at Cateyana. There was exactly one split-second where Raph watched his sai heading for her and regretted having thrown it. He opened his mouth to warn her, tell her heads up, _something._

With her free hand Cateyana caught the sai. And wouldn't you know, she flipped it around into a proper grip like she knew what she was doing. The form was a little off. Actually it reminded Raph of knife play. She cradled her tarantula's jar under her good arm and held the sai with her left. Her left arm trembled but her grip on the sai was true. It was this observation that made Raph aware of something else about Cateyana. This wasn't her first time fighting wounded.

Behind Raph, Mikey changed positions. By now they had a system for coordinated stealth. If one of his brothers had to get to a better vantage point, they'd pass through Raph's shadow and tap his shell on the way there. Which meant Mikey wasn't behind him anymore. Which meant Raph could really give Gunther his all.

Raph charged. He hopped over the brick on the way.

Gunther met him with little resistance, but that must've been by design because the next moment Raph found himself redirected. Another similarity with Cateyana: fighting style. Parts of it anyway. In any case it was clear she'd learned a thing or two from her old man. Made sense since she was petite. Gunther's style was more skill than power. He wasn't a brawler. He wasn't a grappler. He was a strategist.

But he wasn't anywhere near as good as Leo.

Raph switched tactics, flowing in and out of the natural counters for Gunther's moves. If Gunther grabbed him, Raph twisted free with escapes. When Gunther tried to trip him, Raph flipped over the guy's head and kick-swept at his legs. They volleyed like that for a while, neither gaining the advantage, until Raph's foot landed on something fuzzy and eight legged and extremely horribly _gross_.

A bug! Why'd it have to be a bug!

Raph didn't slip, but he did lose his focus.

Gunther jumped backward out of range, pulling a device from his pocket as he widened the distance, and then pitched the thing at Raph.

Cateyana hollered. "Bomb!"

Raph didn't need to be told that twice. Survival instinct took over and he dove for the floor. He curled as far into his shell as he could. But the explosion never came. A moment of relief, then Gunther was on top of him, yanking Raph's mask to make it harder to dodge, bashing at his head with the brick. It was automatic for Raph to go on the defensive. He hunched up his shoulder and blocked as many of the blows as possible, which wasn't all of them and crud did those hits _sting_ , then the clinking of Mikey's nunchuck chain preceded a whip-hard thwack, and suddenly Gunther was off Raph's shell.

Raph rolled back up to his feet and found Mikey doubled over groaning. He had his hands anchored on his kneepads and his nunchucks dangled loosely.

"Thanks bro," said Raph. Thanks to Gunther's assault, trickles of blood ran down the back of his neck in wormy patterns. It was aggravating. Every syllable came out gruff. "You good?"

Mikey offered a shaky thumbs-up. No sign of that cure-all Cateyana gave them, so Mikey must've stowed it somewhere during the skirmish.

Gunther had backed off through the space past the paperback books and piles of clothes strewn around. He now stood at the farthest wall, his teeth bore in a pained grimace, and clutched his ribs as he glared fiercely at Mikey.

Raph stepped in front of his bro to intercept the glare.

"Cateyana." Gunther's voice was like a drill sergeant the way he annunciated. He stressed each syllable clearly and with the same inflection, and though his tone might suggest otherwise he was loud enough for his words to be considered a shout. "Explain."

While Gunther had been on top of him Raph had lost track of her, so he did a quick survey of the room. In his peripheral vision he saw she was on her knees putting pressure on her bum left arm. And she didn't have his sai anymore. It was sticking out of the wall opposite her, its tip stabbed straight through the bomb. The bomb itself was circular, and the dull whine that usually accompanied those types of explosives was absent. No flashing lights either. She must've disarmed it by catching it at just the right angle with the tip of the sai. Raph made a note to commend her on her throwing arm later.

The jar with her tarantula stood next to her on the floor, and Raph wondered what it was he'd stepped on during the fight. But whatever it was it wasn't there anymore, and maybe he really didn't want to know. Besides, he had more pressing matters. Like her psycho whack-bag father. And Mikey, who wasn't looking too good. Raph hated the idea but it might be time for a tactical retreat.

"There's nothing to explain," said Cateyana. "I'm done with your shit, Dad. And I'm done with Savvy's shit. I'm done."

"If you leave," said Gunther. "You won't have the cure-all."

"I had this wonderful comeback involving you risking my life by going through with your plan anyway, but then I remembered you risk my life all the time."

Say what?

"Plan?" Mikey grabbed Raph's shoulder to steady himself. "What plan?"

"Test run for Savvy's new drug," said Cateyana.

Gunther growled out the words. "Shut your mouth."

"New York, New York." She had this defiant grit to her tone that Raph couldn't help but approve of. "Perfect petri dish."

"I said shut your goddamn mouth!" Gunther winced at the exertion yelling had caused him, stumbled toward a door that led into the hall, and reached into his pocket. He pulled out another one of those bombs.

Raph had seen the way Cateyana pinned the first bomb to the wall. He still had one sai and trusted he could hit this one midair and disarm it too if need be. But Gunther had yet to throw it and Raph didn't want to give the guy another weapon. Cateyana had caught one sai midflight with ease, and considering the similarities in how she and her father moved when they fought, that meant Gunther probably could catch a flying weapon as well. So they were at a standoff.

"This drug of yours." Raph flipped his sai and caught the tip. Prepared to throw. "You got five seconds to tell me what it does. Or else."

"Or else." Gunther chuckled. "You have no idea who you're dealing with, freak."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah." Gunther pressed a button on the bomb. He didn't throw it. A mechanical whine came from behind Raph, and too late he realized Gunther wasn't holding a bomb. He was holding a detonator. An explosion shook the foundation of the building, shook ceiling, shook the walls. Slabs of concrete and brick imploded in on them. Gunther was already on the move, gone, but Raph had bigger problems than chasing after him. Mikey and Cateyana. He had to make sure they got out okay. Or as okay as they could be under the circumstances. Debris cut off routes, threatened to bury them all under dust and cracked brick and portions of wall.

"Mikey, down!"

"You don't have to tell me twice!"

"Cateyana!"

She dove out of the trajectory of the worst of it and as a chunk of the ceiling cascaded down between her and Raph she wrapped herself protectively around her tarantula's jar. The ceiling chunk impacted the floor with an echoing boom as it crashed and concealed her from view. It blocked Raph's way and prevented him from getting to her in time. He couldn't tell if she'd been crushed. Panicked, his heart pounding at the thought of it, he grabbed Mikey—forcibly in retrospect but he didn't have time for retrospect just then—and dodged any other part of the building that saw fit to try and brain them.

When the building settled and the rumbling stopped, Raph and Mikey were already digging. Mikey wasn't working very fast, but Raph picked up the slack with fervor. It seemed every time they made headway more debris would tumble down to thwart their efforts, and he found himself wondering about air pockets and how fragile humans were and what the _shell_ kind of father would do something so—

Mikey burst into coughs. Sounded like he might hack up a lung.

They had to get out of here.

"Cateyana!" Raph dug faster. They'd have to find that cure-all once they got Cateyana out. Maybe dig around for another jar if the first one got lost in the rubble. "Cat! Kit! Hey! Make some noise or something! You alive down there?"

"Man," said Mikey breathlessly between coughs. "You don't think she's…"

"She better not be." Raph's eyes were stinging. From the dirt, he told himself. From the dust. "We're getting her out, Mikey. We're getting her out."

They dug.


	10. Gunpoint

Leo scowled. Crooked cops. Those were the worst kind of criminals. It was one thing to be up to no good and up front about it. It was another to impersonate good in order to catch people off guard. Leo had no doubt Angel would've turned that guy away if he hadn't been wearing a uniform. But the fact was he had been in uniform, and she had let him in, and no matter what grievances Leo had with the situation they were all in it now and he was going to have to deal with it.

Through the open window, Angel and her grandmother still had their arms up in surrender. The cop remained out of sight, blocked by the building's architecture.

They had to get in there. But they had to be smart about it. Leo was at odds with himself. Being smart about it meant strategizing first, but there was no telling when that crooked cop might open fire or what might set him off. No telling how much time they had. Memories of Angel's brother and his ambush weighed on Leo's mind. He hadn't been fast enough then.

Next to Leo, Casey curled his hands into fists, clenching his teeth while Dragon Face and Max loitered in the alley behind them.

"Even if the cop's crooked," said Max. "He isn't really gonna shoot someone's grandma, is he?"

"Who knows," said Dragon Face.

And these two. They couldn't be trusted. Casey was right. If they cared about Angel for real then they would've done something to prevent what happened to her brother. Leo didn't trust their sudden change of heart. A sense of impending battle tightened Leo's muscles, and he found himself barking orders at the rest of them on reflex.

"Casey, you're good at distractions. Be a distraction."

"You got it, Leo." Casey stuck his thumb in the air and hopped from foot to foot. He shook out his limbs in preparation.

"While Casey does that, I'll find a back way in." Leo pointed one sharp katana at Max and Dragon Face. The threat was clear. "You two. Stay out of our way."

Dragon Face stared down the blade and didn't argue.

"Ain't you worried you're gonna get shot?" Max's mouth twitched like he might burst into laughter, but the rest of his posture projected pure anxiety. Leo noticed how young he was under that mop of blue hair. And Dragon Face didn't look much older. Casey might be older than both of them. And Angel was younger than all three. Four if Leo included himself.

"I ain't afraid of no cop. Least of all a crooked one." Casey took off and made a ruckus on the way. High sticking. Low sticking. He whacked the buildings and lamp posts and anything else in his path of mayhem, as long as it wasn't a person. He bashed that hockey stick into street and sidewalk alike. With guttural threats through the slats of his mask he scared off any bystanders. "Yoo-hoo! There's some freak in a hockey mask out here causing trouble! Ain't there any cops around to tell him to quit making a mess of the neighborhood?"

Leo had to move, and now. There wasn't much cover since it was the middle of the day but nonetheless he maneuvered with stealth across the street and into the alley behind Angel's grandmother's place. Getting into position meant he lost visual of the situation inside, which jolted his heart so his pulse thudded louder. He couldn't afford to lose focus to fear so to calm himself down he reasoned that if the gun went off he would've heard it. For now it sounded like Casey's distraction was doing its job. Leo could still hear him banging around near the front of the building, up and down the street.

"Lotta illegal activity going on around here! Don't no one wanna stop me?"

Leo snuck through the house and stayed out of sight until he was right behind Angel's grandmother's chair. Angel stood in a place where she should've been able to see him, but she hadn't taken her eyes off the crooked cop. All Leo needed was for the crooked cop to turn around, glance back. Be distracted. Just for a moment. That was all the time Leo would need to disarm him. But right now Angel and her grandmother were in the line of fire. Leo couldn't risk revealing himself too soon.

Outside, two new voices joined Casey's whooping and shouts. The cacophony continued.

"I'm gonna break someone's window!" said Max. "I ain't kidding!"

"I'm disappointed!" said Dragon Face. "Prissy neighborhoods like this should have better security!"

Crash, crash, crash. A few more thwacks for good measure. The sound of window shatter.

"Know what I love?" Casey's taunt might've been just that, but it also might've been him having fun. "Property damage!"

Whatever they broke, it set off a car alarm. And finally— _finally_ —the crooked cop glanced at the door. Leo flipped over the couch and brought down his katana, slashing the gun right out of the crooked cop's hands. With perfect form for good measure. Leo stole the space, backed him against the door with a grimace and a glare, then set the tip of his katana at the crooked cop's throat. With nowhere to go, the crooked cop put his arms up, a mirror of how Angel and her grandmother had been posed moments before, and attempted to gulp without Leo's blade piercing his jugular.

That car alarm kept blaring.

"You're going to walk out of here," said Leo. "And you're never going to bother these people again. Ever."

The crooked cop nodded, shrinking away terrified and tiny.

Leo reached past him, grabbed the knob and turned, watching the crooked cop sweat as he oh so kindly opened the door. And then with one swift kick Leo punted him outside. When Leo turned around, Angel's grandmother was gaping at him. Right. On to damage control.

"No one's hurt, are they?"

Angel shook her head no.

Angel's grandmother closed her mouth but it soon flopped open again.

"Uh." Leo multitasked. He gave both of them a quick once-over and spewed some nonsense in the hopes that it worked. "I'm a figment of your imagination. Feel free to forget everything I say. And that I was even here. Better yet, I'm not here. I'm… um. Definitely imaginary." This had gone a lot better in Leo's head.

"Oh dear." Angel's grandmother crocheted in a flurry of absent motion. She watched him wide-eyed, her face slackened by surprise. "Young man, you're a giant turtle."

Well it's not like he could argue with that assessment.

"Yeah, yeah. He's a giant turtle." Angel helped her grandmother back down into the chair. "Gramma, it's a long story."

"Do you eat giant goldfish?"

"What? No." Leo waved his hands to dismiss that ridiculous notion, and because he didn't know what else to do with himself. "Look, uh. Just pretend I was never here. And can I borrow Angel for a second?"

"Well it seems to me it's none of my business what a giant turtle does with his time. I'm not an aquatic creature."

"Um."

The kitchen was located behind her grandmother's chair. Angel relocated there and waved Leo over. Before he complied Leo plucked the crooked cop's gun off the floor. He'd find a permanent place for the weapon later. That or anonymously drop it within reach of the NYPD.

"I gotta join back up," whispered Angel.

"No." Leo kept his voice low as well. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to do."

"It's not like they're gonna stop."

"I'll think of something. Just give me some time."

"And in the meantime there's gonna be more crooked cops knocking on Gramma's door. All I gotta do to make them stop is rejoin. I've been a Purple Dragon before. Almost. I can deal with whatever they want me to do."

"And put your honor at risk doing it. This is a dangerous road, Angel. And a slippery slope. You know better than anyone it's the type of situation where things escalate. Don't you remember the first time, back when Casey had to get you out of it?"

"But what am I supposed to do? I can't just do nothing. First Ryan and now… and now…" Angel might act tough, but she was also technically still a kid. Anyone could see the emotions were overwhelming her. She shook with unshed sobs. "What if they'd shot Gramma too?"

Brotherly instinct had Leo pulling her into a hug. She returned it, small against him, and he tried not to think of the trail of tears that slid down his plastron. He let her have as much time as she needed. After all, her own brother was out of commission, and Leo considered Angel more or less a little sister. He had to step up in Ryan's absence. Angel's grandmother rocked back and forth in the chair, humming some tune, and Leo felt resolution solidify in his heart.

He had to fix this. He _had_ to.

Angel sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve.

Three knocks on the door. Angel's grandmother stopped rocking the chair. Angel stared past Leo, hesitant to leave the kitchen. After what just happened Leo couldn't blame her. So he took it upon himself to deal with whoever was knocking. Outside, the car alarm went silent.

"Hey, you guys okay?" Casey's voice.

Leo felt all the tension sink out of him. He opened the door.

"Oh," said Angel's grandmother. "Casey." She resumed her crochet project.

"We're all okay," said Leo. "For now."

"That's a relief." Casey clutched at his muscle shirt, a tight fist over his heart. "Don't mean we can rest easy though. I can't believe a buncha thugs like the Purple Dragons got the cops on their side."

Dragon Face and Max lingered in the doorway. They shared a glance but had the decency not to comment. They also had the decency not to enter. Casey didn't move to close the door, and Leo was left in limbo holding the doorknob. He tried to choose whether or not to let the two former—did they really count as former?—Purple Dragons in. Max and Dragon Face had helped with the crooked cop but they were also part of the reason he'd been here in the first place. Plus the longer the door remained open the more anxious Leo became. He was a ninja. Playing usher was just so… not ninja-like.

"In or out," said Leo. "I'm closing the door."

"Oh," said Angel's grandmother. "I don't mind if they come in."

The two Purple Dragons hesitated a moment longer but they did pass through the threshold. Leo closed the door behind them. Dragon Face and Max both stood awkwardly behind Casey, so out of place inside the quaint home of this friendly old grandmother with their dyed hair and tats and street punk attire. It was actually kind of comical to see the two of them fidget as if they were trying to make their intrusion seem less intrusive, but that might just be Leo's relief coming into play.

But already that relief began to fade.

"Dragon Face." Angel balled her fists and hunched into a fighting stance. When she leveled a glare on Dragon Face she was still flushed from crying. The redness of her nose made her look even angrier. She didn't ask. She demanded. "What're you doing here."

"Whoa whoa, Angel." Casey blocked Angel's view of Dragon Face. "Hold up. I know how you feel. Trust me. I know the kinds of thoughts that must be swirling around in your head right now. And I'll be the first to tell you they're justified. But as much as it pains me to say this, these two did help get that crooked cop outta your grandma's house."

"Casey dear," said Angel's grandmother with the nonchalance that can only come from an aged New Yorker. She continued to crochet but her head tilted in a manner that suggested she was listening in earnest. Leo felt like he wasn't the only ninja in the room. "I'm right here."

" _Leo_ got him outta here," said Angel.

"Well, yeah, but what I'm saying is—"

"Guys," said Leo. "Can we focus on the bigger picture for a second?"

Dragon Face and Max shrugged at each other.

Casey frowned.

"Like where me and Gramma are supposed to go." Angel stared at the floor. "If the Purple Dragons have the cops on their side then I don't know how I'm supposed to avoid them. And Gramma…"

Angel's grandmother put her crochet project aside and pat her lap invitingly. Angel wandered over as if on autopilot and sat, though she was more leaned against the arm of the chair than sitting on her grandmother's lap.

"If you need a place to crash you can hole up at my place for a while," said Casey. "It's a bit of a mess though. Compared to here."

"How kind of you to say," said Angel's grandmother.

That was a generous offer and it would probably work in the short term but Leo was more worried about the long term. He observed the two Purple Dragons, considered the fact that they hadn't so much as made a peep since being let inside, and wondered about their motives for helping Angel in the first place. They had mentioned they disapproved of the new Purple Dragon head honcho and that might be reason enough for them to get involved with Angel's predicament, but Leo didn't trust either of them as far as he could throw them. Being a mutant ninja turtle meant he could throw them pretty far.

"You two."

Dragon Face and Max snapped to attention.

"What's your angle in all this?"

"We don't like how Basilisk is running things," said Dragon Face. "What's so hard to get?"

"I meant what's your angle in helping Angel."

"She was almost one of us once," said Max.

"And?"

"And?" Max shook his head in confusion like that was all the information Leo needed in order to understand. And if these two were honorable, it would've been. But these were Purple Dragons Leo was talking to. He pressed on.

"Let's just say it doesn't make much sense for you to go out of your way for someone who wasn't even an official member," said Leo.

"Yeah?" Max spoke indignantly, as if he wasn't one of the criminals in the room. "Well what's a giant reptile got to say about it anyway? Jane ain't a member either and we still worry about her."

"Jane?" Casey turned to Angel.

Angel shook her head. Apparently she hadn't ever heard of this Jane person either.

"Our newest initiate," said Dragon Face. "Story goes she wouldn't kill me."

The next hour was one of the longest Leo had ever experienced in his life.


	11. Survivor

A high-pitched frequency that warbled between several different pitches in Cateyana's hearing. Then muffled voices from the other side of the concrete slab beside her. No light. Tight space. Anansi's jar, blessedly intact, tucked into the cavity she'd created with her good arm before the building fell around her. Dust under nails and clinging to skin and the raw hard grain of wall or ceiling or maybe upturned floor. Pain. Stuck. Choking. No room to move no room to breathe not enough air she didn't know how much debris was on top of her what if Raph and Mikey were crushed she screamed she screamed she _screamed._ Her lungs burned. Her skin turned sickly hot with panic. She wiggled and tossed and grunted and moaned but she couldn't even hear herself. She didn't know if she'd been loud enough for anyone to find her.

Around her mortar and brick shifted and slid.

A whimper seeped from her heart into her lungs and trembled out of her. Her thoughts raced. She thought the ceiling might cave, that she might be crushed like Anansi's molt, smashed and disregarded under some slab three times her size. If that happened her father wouldn't care. She thought she didn't care if he cared. What was one more way of him ruining her life? But she did care. She did. That was her problem. She cared too much. That's how it had always been.

###

Cateyana was twelve and in a foreign country. She descended a stairwell that led to a cellar. Only one way in or out and it was behind her. Her father had told her to bring a knife. She had guesses about why but nothing concrete. Based on the venue this would be another of Gunther's impromptu lessons. The prospect made her anxious. She was never told in exact terms what any lesson would entail. Not until it was well underway.

The cellar at the bottom of the stairs was lit by a single lightbulb that swung from a chain on the ceiling. Under the swaying yellow light sat two chairs, each occupied by a person. Both were roped with professional knots to their respective seats. A man and a woman, their faces awash in fear, their mouths in gags. They coughed and mewed. They had no choice but to breathe through their noses and each sniff echoed, terror-softened mucus calling attention to the already moist air. The way they snuck looks at each other implied they were an item but at that age the only romance Cateyana had been exposed to was between Gunther and her mother, dysfunction at its finest, so she didn't understand the nuance. She also didn't understand where Gunther had acquired these two and for a brief moment considered asking. But she found she couldn't speak. She felt if she did then her tongue might betray her, swell and choke her out from the inside. Burn away her throat with bile.

Bring a knife, he'd said.

Gunther hadn't yet taught her the strategies of abduction, how the best candidates were transients, how the best time to snatch anyone was in a crowded public place where you could use the overstimulation as its own sort of cover, rather than in isolation where a bystander might see and alert the authorities.

Gunther stood between the abductees. He rested his hands on the corner back of each chair near their shoulders while Savvy leaned against the far cellar wall. Savvy's face was partway in shadow but even in such poor lighting Cateyana could see his smirk. She'd seen that expression many times, as well as his other tells. The predatory tilt of his frame as he bent centimeters forward in anticipation. How his sweat implied eagerness. His almost giddiness. She didn't just hate the way he stood, the way he smirked. She loathed every fiber of his being. This pose of his was the precursor to the way he'd gloat whenever he got Cateyana in a hold she couldn't escape, the same way he looked whenever he wrapped a belt around someone's throat and tightened. Nooses and blocked airways. Suffocation. That's what got Savvy off. Back then Cateyana didn't know the term for his vices but she trusted the way her gut twisted whenever he was around. So she hated.

She hated so hard she felt she might burst.

But she couldn't show it. Never show it. Never reveal anything to anyone. That's how you survive. _Thanks, father, for teaching me that first. Because now I can survive you._

"Got a lesson for you today," said Gunther in the way of an instructor. "Today you learn how to kill."

Cateyana didn't have the luxury of allowing herself a reaction.

"Now." Gunther paced as he lectured. He ignored the bug-eyed looks and fearful whimpers of the abductees tied to the chairs. "Killing is always a choice. Never forget that. When you kill, it's always because you have chosen to do so. So today you must learn to make that choice." He passed behind the woman's chair and leaned over her. Then he stared at Cateyana with those eyes whose shape and color provided antagonistic proof of familial relation. "This is your decision. Your choice. Either way one of them dies. You must choose which one and deliver the final cut. As Savvy taught you, across the artery in the neck." Gunther ran a finger across his own throat to demonstrate. As if it weren't already clear. "So. Make your choice. Who will you kill?"

"Neither." Cateyana treated this the way Gunther wanted her to: a lesson. She spoke in a deliberate and detached manner. For survival she'd already mastered most of acting, and not all of what she was saying was a lie. "In this scenario why wouldn't I kill you?"

Gunther chuckled. "Because we're on the same side. Now stop dawdling. Make your choice." He moved back toward Savvy and waited.

Cateyana stood there. She stared at Gunther and Savvy instead of the ones in the chairs. She couldn't do this. She wouldn't. What else was there for them to take? Nothing. She could wait this out. Even if the man and the woman died, it didn't have to be by her hands. This was a trial of patience. Cateyana had learned to be very patient. In the corner of her eye she saw Savvy drop his smirk. He must've realized she wasn't going to do what Gunther told her to.

"You're being too easy on her." Savvy shoved past Gunther, pulled out his own knife—same steel and style as Cateyana's—and plunged it into the woman's shoulder. She screamed and cried and yelped in pain but the gag muffled most of her hysterics. Savvy tilted his head at Cateyana and smiled that infuriating smile of his, the one that told you he knew he was winning. "How about this then? Slash the other one's throat and I'll get this one to a doctor."

Cateyana moved forward and knifed the neck of the man in the chair. She had to swallow her vomit but she did it. His blood ran hot between her fingers, into puddles inside her palms, down across her wrists. It spurted from his throat and trailed in rivulets toward the insides of her elbows. With lukewarm spills it traced her veins as the man paled under the gash. She'd hesitated. The cut wasn't clean. In that moment when the guilt hit, if she'd had the ability to rip herself out of her own skin, tear her soul from her body so it would evaporate, she would've. Without hesitation.

She'd never forget that man's final words, so incomprehensible they became only sounds. The voice box vibration. The anemic liquid gurgle. She'd hear it forever. Day or night, whenever she stared off she'd wonder what he'd said. During sleep it became the soundtrack of her nightmares.

Once the man was dead, Gunther clapped in earnest. Savvy kicked over the woman's chair and left her on the floor to die.

At twelve years old Cateyana thought: _I chose to kill that man. I'm just like my father and Savvy. I deserve whatever I get._

It wasn't until she stood on that rooftop, teetering, that she stopped thinking along those lines.

###

Screaming wasn't going to get her out of here. If she wanted to live she had to dig. She took a shallow breath and shimmied over to a looser side of the pocket she was stuck in. And she dug.

Savvy and Gunther weren't going to win. She promised herself she would ruin them. She wanted to be the type of person who kept her word. Anansi by her side, blood from her torn stitches coagulating, she pulled away one bit of debris at a time at a consistent pace and listened to the odd tone in her ears dissipate.

Rumbles from the other side of the collapse. A sliding noise. Pierces then harsh scrapes. A puncture, a shift, pebbles of debris that tumbled to create a hole. Cateyana dug faster toward that opening. Once the hole was wide enough she reached her good hand through and grasped. It was blind and clumsy reaching. She met obstacles and hollow air. Then three fingers clasped hers. She knew the pattern of the calluses. Raphael.

"I found her! You're gonna be okay Kit."

 _If I had friends they'd call me Cat or Kit or something._ In a space with only one exit Cateyana found herself smiling. _Kit._ Her throat was still scratchy so she squeezed Raph's hand to let him know she'd heard.

"We're gonna get you out."

"Anansi first." Kit let go and grabbed Anansi's jar while Raph whittled away at the hole. He carved until it enlarged into a miniature tunnel and Kit slid Anansi's jar through to him.

"Uh. Hey Mikey you wanna gimme a hand with this?"

"Yeesh Raph," said Mikey. "Can't you get over the bug thing for like four seconds?"

One of them slid Anansi's jar the rest of the way through. They all kept digging, faster now that they had a clear trajectory, until Mikey had to stop. Kit shimmied through the widened tunnel and remained mindful of her torn stitches as Raph helped her out the other side. Anansi was okay. Raph was okay. Mikey was…

On his knees, breathing hard and wheezing.

"Savvy's cure-all didn't work?" Kit sank down next to him.

"We kinda lost it." Mikey shivered. He blinked rapidly and more often than was normal. Then again Kit didn't know what normal was for a giant turtle. But in a human that usually meant they were trying to stay conscious.

Raph rolled his shoulders and pulled Mikey up. "And we wanted Donnie to take a look at it first. In case it worked different for us."

Kit nodded. She did a quick scan of the place in the hopes she might find the cure-all intact. Her makeshift room and by extension her possessions hadn't survived the collapse, but neither had anything that belonged to Gunther or Savvy. Why blow the whole building? Seemed counterintuitive. Unless they had a secondary location set up that they'd kept from her. Which meant they were ready to test out Savvy's new drug on the general populace of New York City. She had to warn everyone. Or prevent their plan altogether. One problem at a time. First she had to figure out how to help Mikey.

He groaned. "I dunno if I love being a turtle anymore."

"You good to walk?" Raph adjusted his grip on Mikey. "I got my hands full."

"I can walk." Kit picked up Anansi's jar and tiptoed across the rubble. She scanned the immediate area one last time for the cure-all but it wasn't anywhere. Since everything collapsed they were out in the open. Best not to stick around. "I'm assuming you have a way to contact Donatello?"

###

April and Don sat over cups of coffee in April's kitchen and discussed what Don not-quite-affectionately called The Cateyana Situation.

"Of course I'll help you guys in any way I can," said April. "It's just… I don't know if I have enough room in this tiny place for a roommate. And I don't know anything about her aside from what you've told me. And from what you've told me she seems kind of fishy. No offense."

"None taken." Don sipped in contemplation. "If I'm being perfectly honest I don't know how I feel about this whole thing either."

"Really? How come?"

"Well. It's just that Cateyana has this way about her. She's so closed off. Makes me feel like she's hiding something major. And I know hearing that from a ninja might make it sound a bit silly, but…"

"But you don't know how big of a thing it is she's hiding so you're cautious." April pursed her lips like a kiss over her coffee and blew away the steam. "That makes sense to me, Don. I don't blame you for being concerned."

This was why Don loved talking to April. She always understood implications.

"But that also calls attention to my main concern." April let her coffee cool. "If you don't fully trust her then how can you expect me to?"

"I know. If it's any consolation, Raph trusts her. I feel like he knows more than the rest of us. Maybe she confided in him or something. Plus there's also the possibility I'm being paranoid."

"Do you trust Raph's judgement?"

"He was right about Casey, wasn't he?"

April's cheeks turned pink. She was cute when she blushed. It showcased her freckles. They sat in companionable silence. They thought their thoughts and were about to share them when Don's shellcell rang. He answered the way he always answered for Raph.

"Tech support." Don's stomach dropped at the news. He squished the shellcell against his ear and almost forgot to grab his bo staff before saying a hasty goodbye to April. "Mikey what? Hang on, I'm patching in Leo."


	12. Leo's Longest Hour

The clock on the wall read **12:43**. Analog. Angel's grandmother didn't have much in the way of technology. In place of a TV she had a bookshelf which included one of Leo's favorites, _Dune._ Casey followed Angel and her grandmother around and gathered essentials into a box for their temporary relocation to his place. So far it was mostly toiletries and clothes. While Dragon Face and Max stood around and looked like sore thumbs, maybe wondering what to do with themselves, Leo slipped _Dune_ into the box.

"That one any good?" asked Angel.

"It's a staple back at the Lair."

"Maybe I'll catch up on my reading."

Leo returned his attention to the the two Purple Dragons. Ever since Ryan's ambush he'd been looking for any information that could deescalate the recent rise in gang activity, and now here were two sources primed for interrogation.

"Tell me something, Max." Dragon Face made small talk and kept out of Casey's way. "Why you always bringing up Jane?"

"Well, uh. You know." Max grinned and looked sheepish but sincere, which was a weird look for a Purple Dragon. "Lately she's all I can think about."

"Puppy crush." Dragon Face's lip curled in a mock expression of disgust. He gave Max an elbow nudge. "You and I both know Purple Dragons ain't supposed to have a soft side."

Max opened his mouth.

"Exactly," Leo interjected. "Which is why this whole Samaritan act from you two is a bit hard to swallow."

"Long as we're putting it on record," said Casey. "I don't buy it either." Angel yanked him along to add more items to the box. Her grandmother's crochet supplies piled atop _Dune._ Casey made a good pack mule. He didn't complain.

"So you two were going to warn Angel about Basilisk." Leo still thought there was something fishy about their involvement. "But what about after she was safe? You keep saying you don't like Basilisk in charge. I get that. But if that was your only reason for intervening then Angel's safety wouldn't matter in the long run."

"Know what I think?" Casey's tone made it more announcement than question. "I think they only wanted to help out Angel so they could have something to hold over her head later."

"Standing right here," said Angel.

Casey either didn't hear her or ignored the comment. He had that fire in his eyes, the one he and Raph so often shared. Rage churning behind a dam that threatened to burst. "I bet Dragon Face over there wants to make his own little faction of the Purple Dragons. And I bet Angel was the first person he thought to recruit since this Basilisk guy had it in his mind to recruit her first."

Dragon Face crossed his arms.

"See? He ain't denying it."

"Is that true?" asked Leo.

Dragon Face gave a noncommittal shrug that tested Leo's patience.

"I'm adding another thing to the record." Angel stepped between Casey and Dragon Face but behind Leo. "If anyone's gonna recruit me I'd rather it be Dragon Face than whoever this Basilisk person is. At least Dragon Face is someone I know."

"No one's recruiting anybody." Leo made his voice stern. This was the Fearless Leader tone, the tone he used when Raph was being especially difficult. He never thought he'd be directing it at Angel. Not that it was _directly_ directed at Angel. More like it was directed at anyone who might see fit to take advantage of her situation. Dragon Face. Max. Angel's own poor judgement. Whatever.

Dragon Face's lip curled again and the way his eyes narrowed showed Leo that this time the disgust was real.

"Hey Angel," said Casey. "How you feel about being a hot commodity?" Angel punched him in the arm, which almost caused him to lose grip of the box, and he fumbled with it for a good few seconds before he managed to regain his balance. Angel's grandmother dropped in one last item, a hand-crocheted blanket most likely of her own design, and then smiled as if she couldn't be bothered with the current conversation.

"That's everything," said Angel's grandmother as she made her way toward the back door. "Come along, Angel." Angel took two steps toward the door, paused, then turned around to give Leo a hug goodbye. Leo returned the hug with one arm, keeping his gaze fixed on Max and Dragon Face. Then Angel was out the back door trailing after her grandmother. Without much choice otherwise, Casey followed them out. Leo trusted him to keep them both safe.

So all that was left to do was deal with these two.

Max fidgeted. First with his fingerless gloves and then with his nose ring. Then he let out a burst of noise that was half-laugh half-choke, and Leo for some inexplicable reason felt sorry for him. Secondhand embarrassment, had to be, which Leo refused to let show on his face. Instead he glared at Dragon Face expectantly. But what did he expect? A sudden attack? An even more sudden confession?

Dragon Face wasn't flustered. "From the way you're looking at us I'm guessing this marks the end of our little alliance."

Leo drew a katana. Focused. The room seemed to shrink.

"Wait!" Max got between Leo and Dragon Face in a manner that involved a lot of graceless arm flailing. Underlying his voice was a desperate titter. "Can't we talk about this?"

"Talk." Leo didn't sheathe his katana. Talk, they said. He was having flashbacks of Oroku Saki.

"Yeah," said Max. "Like people who ain't gonna try and kill each other?"

"Okay then. Talk."

Max seemed at a loss for words.

"It's true I was making a play for Angel," said Dragon Face.

So there was an ulterior motive.

"But even you have to agree." Dragon Face pointed at himself with his thumb. "It's better for me to be in charge of the Purple Dragons than someone like Basilisk."

"Or maybe," said Leo. "It's better for there to be no one in charge. Or better yet, no Purple Dragons at all."

Dragon Face clenched his jaw so tight the pulse in his neck thumped.

Leo stared at him, watched for any sudden moves. None to be found. Even so, Leo didn't let his guard down.

"Do you know what the Purple Dragon stands for?"

"You're in no position to give me a lecture."

Max spoke up. "But do you? Know what it stands for?"

Leo sighed. He knew what it stood for in the Japanese tradition but he doubted the Purple Dragons were using it to symbolize the correct things.

"He don't," said Dragon Face. An assumption Leo was none too happy with. "So allow me to educate him. The Dragon is a symbol of strength."

Yes. Obviously. Everyone knew that.

"And transition."

Okay, so not everyone knew that version. But even so—

"Strength through transition." Dragon Face traced his tat with one finger. "And the reason it's purple ain't because of the royalty thing. Purple symbolizes lack."

"Like when you want something but you can't have it," said Max. The clarification wasn't necessary.

"And?" Leo's patience was wearing thin. Purple also symbolized harmony, which was about as far from a Purple Dragon as you could get.

"And," said Dragon Face. "Most Purple Dragons start out without stability. Let's just say our home lives usually leave something to be desired. We got no family but each other. Before the Purple Dragons, all we had was lack."

Max slouched and studied the floor. His grim posture invoked sympathy in Leo that Leo didn't want to feel for a street thug. But even so. No matter how difficult their lives had been before the Purple Dragons, that didn't excuse what Dragon Face was saying. And it especially didn't excuse all that the Purple Dragons had done.

"The Purple Dragon is supposed to mean you take what wasn't given and you turn it into strength. Then you use that strength to transition into someone better than you were before."

"So." Leo couldn't believe he had to point this out but it was better than the alternative, which would've been to physically knocking some sense into these two. "You take what you want because you're spiteful life didn't go your way. Doesn't sound like strength to me. Sounds more like an excuse to make trouble for all the innocent people out there who try and live their lives peacefully. I don't care how you rationalize it. There's nothing honorable about your version of the Dragon."

Max opened his mouth and Leo's shellcell rang.

The display read **12:57 PM**.

Don.

If it were Mikey then Leo might've let it ring a few times. If it were Raph he might not have answered at all. But Don? Don never called unless it was urgent. Leo answered before the first ring stopped ringing.

"Talk to me Donnie."

"Leo." Don panted between words. Sounded like he was running. "Good. You picked up."

When did he ever not pick up?

"I'm patching you in."

"In?" In Leo's peripheral vision Dragon Face and Max shrugged at each other. Apparently they weren't going to interrupt Leo's call. Out of… politeness? Yeah right. Fear? Whatever the case, Leo trusted he could multitask if they decided to rush him or do anything else antagonistic. Not like he hadn't fought while on a shellcell call before. "Don? What's going on?"

From the other end of the line Mikey groaned. It was his actual groan, not the one he used for dramatic effect. Leo knew the difference and that difference meant everything, especially since it was Don organizing the call. Also from the other end of the line, Raph grunted. So all his brothers were present and accounted for. No one was… Leo forced his mind away from that dark thought.

"I'm patched in," said Leo. "Someone give me the lowdown on whatever's going on."

Mikey groaned again.

"Mikey's poisoned." Raph sounded spent. It took a lot to tire him, and Leo wondered where he and Mikey were. Obviously not with Don, so where? Why weren't they backing each other up? Wait a minute, _poisoned?_ "And a building fell on our heads and we lost the jar of stuff that coulda cured him."

"Where are you?"

"I'm heading their way," said Don. "Remember the trackers I installed in our shellcells? Still operational."

"Right." Leo looked at the display ( **12:59 PM** plus a handy cluster of dots to represent his brothers on the map of Manhattan) and wondered how a _building_ had fallen on Raph and Mikey's heads. "Got it. I'm headed your way too, Raph. Tell Mikey to hang in there."

Mikey groaned slightly more coherently.

"He heard you," said Raph. "And just so you know we got Kit with us too."

"Kit?"

"Cateyana."

"Right." Aka: Jane. Aka: whatever other aliases she went by. Leo made a mental note to ask that batch of questions later. "Any other injuries I should know about?"

"A building." Raph's snark was intact, not that it was helping. "Fell on our heads."

Leo didn't bother voicing his aggravation. No use getting into an argument with Raph. They didn't have the luxury right now. Not to mention Leo didn't have the energy.

"I assume," said Don, whose subtle sass was also not helping. "There's about as many injuries as you'd expect."

Leo eyeballed Max and Dragon Face, who were still milling around, and considered his own options while Don continued the conversation with Raph.

"Anyone concussed?"

"Don't think so," said Raph. "Maybe? You should probably know Kit tore her stitches."

"She what?"

"She tore her stitches."

"I meant how."

"A. Building. Fell. On. Our. Heads. Thought you were supposed to be the smart turtle, Donnie."

"Spare me your sarcasm." Don kept the line alive by relaying his position whenever he reached a familiar junction—already in the sewers then, good—and eventually he and Raph's voices echoed and Don announced he'd found the others. There were shuffling noises and more groans from Mikey. Then Raph's shellcell disconnected.

"Guys?" Leo had to meet up with his brothers and figure out what was going on. How bad the damage was. He didn't want to waste precious time chasing the two Purple Dragons out of Angel's grandmother's place, but he couldn't exactly leave them to do as they pleased either. If he left without doing anything about them then that would mean he practically gave them permission to start looting. "Don?"

"He's helping carry Michelangelo," said Cateyana. Or Kit. Or Jane. Or whatever her real name was.

Don's voice was farther away. "Tell Leo to hurry."

"Donatello says—"

"I heard." Leo pointed at the front door. Maybe if he asked nicely they'd leave without making it harder on themselves. "You two. Out."

Dragon Face seemed about to protest but Max grabbed him by the arm and tugged him toward the door.

"And close the door," commanded Leo.

They did.

Leo checked his brothers' whereabouts. **1:06 PM** and three dots in a clump already en route towards the Lair. With the rate they were moving that would put his brothers about seven minutes away from the entrance at Eastman and Laird. Even if he ran like crazy it would take Leo longer.

He ran full speed.

"I can write down what I remember of Savvy's formulas for Donatello," said Cateyana.

"What?" Leo had been in such a rush to get home he hadn't paid much attention to the other end of the line.

"It was Savvy who poisoned Michelangelo. I know some of the formulas he uses since I grew up with him."

"Don't suppose you know the formula for that cure Raph mentioned before?"

"Sorry."

"Don can figure it out." Leo vaulted a roof and told himself Don _always_ figured it out.

Cateyana made an affirmative noise that sounded raspy. Leo remembered she wasn't unscathed either. Torn stitches.

"How are you holding up?"

"I'm functional."

"Giving dodgy answers doesn't really help in this situation. Raph said you tore your stitches?"

"Mhm."

"Think you can do something for me?"

"Depends." Pause. "What?"

"Take a look at Raph. He bleeding from anywhere you can see?"

"Head wound." She spoke in clipped manner and with absolute clarity of inflection despite the wheeze in her voice. It sounded almost military. Which didn't make any sense considering she'd said her father was a criminal. But Leo appreciated the no nonsense tone. "Can't tell how bad."

"Forget about me." Raph's voice came from a small distance away. He sounded tired and worried but not much else. "Ain't nothing compared to what Mikey's got."

The lack of a Mikey one-liner concerned Leo.

"Tell Leo I'll check Raph once I've figured out how to help Mikey," said Don. Then in a quieter tone that must've meant Don was addressing Raph directly: "And I will figure something out. He'll be okay."

"He better be."

"I'll make sure he is."

"Donatello says—"

"I heard." Leo spotted a manhole cover. Finally. He tumbled expertly off the roof he'd been running and down into the alley below. He descended into the sewers and slid the manhole cover back into place as he went. When he reached bottom his feet landed in familiar wet sewage and he spared a moment to check his brothers' location. **1:08 PM** and the cluster of dots was nearer to the Eastman and Laird entrance. They must've been moving at a consistent pace while Leo double-timed through Angel's neighborhood. He used the shellcell map and his memories of the junctions around this part of town to plot a course that would intercept them, or at least allow him to make it back to the Lair at around the same time they did. There was a possibility he'd still arrive late, but not so much as if he'd travelled above ground. "Has anyone contacted Master Splinter?"

"I don't know," said Cateyana. She repeated Leo's question for the others.

"Not yet," said Don.

"Bit busy with collapsing buildings," said Raph.

Mikey groaned.

"Do you want me to?" asked Cateyana.

"No," said Leo. He'd rather have some clue as to the state of his brothers even if it was just audio. "Stay on the line. I'm headed your way through the sewers. Knowing Master Splinter, he probably already figured out there's something going on."

Silence from Cateyana, but she hadn't hung up on him.

"You mentioned someone named Savvy. Said you grew up with him."

No comment.

"Might be helpful if you clued us in as to who he is. Considering he poisoned my brother."

"He's my father's right-hand man."

"And he poisons people?"

"Yes."

Leo picked up his pace. The only sounds that came from the other end of the line were the slosh of the sewers and the other ambient noises he'd grown accustomed to living in the tunnels beneath Manhattan. No words from any of his brothers, though there were expressions of exertion. Grunts, coughs, groans. Occasionally Cateyana panted, but softly, as if she were trying to hide it. The only reason Leo wasn't completely freaking out about their current situation was he had a singular task to focus on. As worried as he was about Mikey and the rest of his family, he wasn't any good to any of them if he lost his center. So he focused on running. One sprint at a time. Then another. He dashed.

Faster.

Turned on dimes and whipped around bends.

 _Faster._

Bolted past boarded-up junctions.

"I'm really sorry," said Cateyana.

"For what?"

"This wouldn't have happened if I hadn't gotten involved with any of you."

Involved? She'd run off the first chance she got.

"I'll come clean about everything after I draw up the formulas for Donatello."

"Noted." A familiar arc of tunnels provided Leo with a modicum of relief. He was almost home. Just a little further and he could check on his brothers in person. They should've already reached the Lair, and a quick glance at his shellcell display ( **1:13 PM** ) confirmed it. A fourth dot, Master Splinter's, moved to meet the other three. They were home.

It took Leo until **1:17 PM** to catch up and enter the Lair himself. Which considering the distance he'd crossed had to be some kind of record.

He passed through the entrance at a run and made his way straight to Don's workstation, where Mikey was already flat on his shell on the table. Mikey's chest moved up and down laboriously. He was breathing, but he otherwise didn't so much as twitch. Don busied himself checking vitals and a bunch of other things Leo didn't bother trying to understand while Raph occupied the swivel chair. Master Splinter stood over Mikey and whispered Japanese words of comfort, one hand placed on his son's forehead to help realign the chi.

Cateyana was at Don's smaller worktable scribbling onto a piece of paper. There was a jar with a tarantula inside it by her feet.

At least she hadn't lied about drawing up those formulas, if that really was what she was writing. But one instance of honesty didn't excuse all her other secrets. Like the fact that Cateyana might not even be her real name. Leo reminded himself she'd said she'd come clean about everything, whatever that meant. Since Don and Master Splinter were taking care of Mikey, Leo gave Raph a once-over. Not too many injuries, all things considered. But true to Cateyana's word he did have a nasty gash on the back of his head. Dried blood clung to his skin there.

Raph fumbled with the knot on his mask.

"Want some help with that?" asked Leo.

Raph, the expertly trained ninja, jumped at his own brother's voice. The way he jolted would've been amusing if not for the current state of affairs.

"The back of your head looks like it could use some clean cotton," said Leo.

"Leo." Raph forewent the knot and yanked off the mask the old-fashioned way. "Man am I glad to see you."

Leo nodded a glum greeting at Don and Master Splinter as he moved past them to retrieve disinfectant and bandages. Cateyana stopped scribbling and made herself scarce. She grabbed the jar with the tarantula and slumped down to the floor with it, using the leg of Don's worktable as a backrest. Her torn stitches had yet to be treated, and Leo got a gnarly view of her reopened wound from where he stood disinfecting Raph's head. Meanwhile Don studied whatever it was she'd written down. For a while the only noises to break the silence were his occasional contemplative _hmms_ and the waxy rustle of the paper as he studied its surface. That and Mikey's scratchy erratic breaths.

By the time Leo finished tending to Raph's head the clock on Don's worktable read **1:23 PM** and Don was still humming in thoughtful intervals. Every now and then he'd add something to Cateyana's notes but Leo didn't know what.

All Leo knew was Mikey's condition was getting worse.

"That's all I can remember," said Cateyana guiltily. As if it were her fault everything was like this.

Leo wondered. _Was_ it her fault? As cathartic as it might be to find someone to blame, something about that thought didn't sit right.

"I can work with this." Don indicated the network of scribblings, his unique way of letting Cateyana off the hook for now. And then he went off on a scientific tangent under his breath, talking himself through the formulas, and his mumbling lost all coherency to Leo.

Mikey rested. Master Splinter closed his eyes.

Quiet once again descended. Leo thought on all that had happened and watched the clock on Don's worktable flip to **1:25 PM**.

"You said you'd come clean," said Leo.

"Huh?"

"Not you, Raph. Cateyana. Or I guess Kit. Or maybe I should call you Jane."

Cateyana looked up at him. Her face went from ordinary to afraid to unreadable. That emotional mask of hers slammed down and morphed her expression into something frigid and robotic. With the way she was smudged with dirt and paler than normal, it made her look like some kind of weathered statue. Uncanny. But Leo couldn't let that bother him. Not now. Not when one of his brothers was laid out unconscious and poisoned. Poisoned by someone she had identified as her father's right-hand man.

In Leo's peripheral vision, the clock flipped to **1:26 PM**.

"Come clean about what?" asked Raph.

"That's what I'd like to know," said Leo.

Don was still making notes and calculating but he slowed his movements in a way imperceptible to all except those who'd grown up with him. Leo for one knew he was eavesdropping. Master Splinter's ear twitched toward Cateyana, the only indication his attention was also split between her and Mikey.

Mikey remained as he was. Master Splinter's eyes stayed closed in concentration.

The clock flipped to **1:27** **PM**.

"I said my father was a criminal. I never said what kind."

"Does it matter?" asked Raph.

"Yes." Something broke in Cateyana. It was small, only a crack to let some realness bleed out of her façade, but it was there. And Leo recognized the emotion rushing through. Regret. "He's a terrorist. Not domestic. International. And my whole life I've been helping him. You asked about Jane. She's my alias. One of them. After Jane Doe."

"That explains a few things about these formulas." Don left it at that. He mixed solutions and measured things. He calibrated instruments. Leo barely understood what Don was doing but he had to believe the process would cure Mikey. He had to.

But a terrorist? A _terrorist_ had poisoned his brother?

"From the way you talk about your father," said Raph. "And even more now that I've met the guy, I doubt he or that Savvy whack-bag gave you much of a choice."

Leo wondered about that.

"There's always a choice," said Cateyana. "My whole life I've made wrong ones."

Hmm.

"Giving me these formulas wasn't a wrong choice." Don poured chemicals from one beaker to another, squinting at the measurement ticks up the sides. He wrote something down. "With this much data, I can replicate the antidote."

"You sure?" Leo's heart lifted. If that were true, Cateyana was off the hook. At least for now.

Don nodded. Swirled more liquids around in more beakers. Made more measurements. Crushed something black—charcoal?—and added it to the mixture. Swirled again.

Minutes ticked by.

 **1:31 PM**.

Don checked Mikey's vitals. Heartbeat unstable. Uneven breathing. More notes. Master Splinter's eyebrows furrowed.

 **1:32 PM**.

Raph moved off the chair and offered to re-stitch Cateyana's arm. She winced but accepted the offer. While Raph snatched the cotton from Leo and grabbed the suture kit, she watched Don work on Mikey. Her expression became pained, and the way it crinkled her face made Leo wonder if it were more than just the physical kind.

One thing was for sure. At least for the moment she wasn't being fake. Her mask crumbled and there were tears.

 **1:33** **PM**.

Don administered one of his solutions to Mikey via syringe. Raph slid the old stitches out of Cateyana's wound.

Leo made himself useful and held her still.

She flinched and gritted her teeth but she never made a noise. Not even a whimper. It was honestly kind of impressive.

 **1:37 PM**.

Mikey stirred. His breathing began to level. Don checked his vitals and confirmed they were all stabilizing.

"Looks like you gave me good info," said Don.

Leo saw Master Splinter carefully watch Cateyana's reaction.

A ghost of a smile crossed her face. Relief.

Leo decided she could be trusted. She'd helped Don save Mikey and she was happy for it. Whatever happened with her father, whatever he pulled her into, it was clear she didn't want to be a part of it. Besides, Raph did say she joined the Purple Dragons to get away from her father. There had to be something to that.

 **1:39 PM**.

Mikey groaned and brought up a hand to his head. "What happened? Did we beat the evil pirate guy?"

"Evil pirate guy?" asked Don.

"You know. Savvy?"

"Um." Leo didn't actually know whether or not they'd beaten Savvy and expected a full explanation later. But for now he went over and double-checked Mikey's condition even though Don was the go-to turtle when it came to medicine. His family understood it was a way for Leo to put himself at ease, a silent agreement between all of them, and Don didn't comment. Instead he put his instruments away. Cleaned up his workspace.

"Good to have you back, Mikey." Raph executed his own once-over, though his was less obvious than Leo's. And he was probably looking for other things. "But don't you remember? That Savvy guy, he ran off. Right before the building fell on our heads."

"Oh yeah." Mikey stayed on his shell and allowed both Leo and Master Splinter to fret over him, but he kept scratching at his head. "Guess things are still kinda fuzzy. How'd I get back to the Lair anyway?"

"Don and I carried you. And I gotta say, you really oughtta lay off the chips."

"Like you're the poster child for healthy eating, Mister I-Eat-Cold-Pizza-For-Breakfast."

"But Mikey." Leo squeezed Mikey's shoulder and put as much good humor into his words as possible. "We all eat cold pizza for breakfast. Sometimes."

"Oh yeah? Well! Uh." Mikey groaned and this time it was the one he used when he was being dramatic. "I'm too tired to come up with a one-liner right now."

For the most part it seemed Mikey was back to his old self. Leo finally let himself wind down from disaster mode. He let the relief flow through him like water. All at once, in a rush, so that he had to take a gigantic breath by the end of it.

"My son," said Master Splinter.

Don's clock read **1:43 PM**. All this had happened over the course of one hour.

Crazy. To Leo it felt like a lifetime.


	13. Thickening Agent

That night Dragon Face and Max sat with their limbs hung through the railing of an abandoned rooftop terrace, drank a stolen bottle of whiskey, and came to terms with the fact they had nowhere to go. Since they hadn't recruited Angel, that meant Basilisk had a hit out on them. Since the cops in the area were crooked, they couldn't ask for official help either. Not that they would, being Purple Dragons and all. As he stared down at the city Dragon Face realized he hadn't had a plan for what to do after he got Angel on their side. Not to mention they hadn't even gotten her on their side in the first place. The whole thing was a bust.

"Gotta find a new pad," said Max. "I can't crawl back to my parents' place. I can't."

"I know."

"Know anyone in Jersey?"

Dragon Face grumbled. They shouldn't be having this discussion. What they should've been able to do was go back to the warehouse. Purple Dragons were supposed to always be welcome there. He felt adrift and frustrated. It was like playing some cheesy board game and getting thrown back to the start point for no good reason. Or maybe because it was rigged. He'd felt this way back then too, before he earned his tat. And he was willing to bet Max felt the same.

Max passed him the whiskey. Dragon Face took a sip. It burned his throat less and less the more he drank.

"This is kinda like old times," said Max.

"Don't."

"What?"

"Make light of this."

"Who's making light? I was just saying."

Dragon Face raked a hand down his face. His tat started to feel less like a symbol and more like a scar.

"Maybe we could ask Jane where she's staying," said Max. "If girly's staying anywhere."

"Give it up, Max. We're on our own."

Max snatched the bottle and downed the rest of the whiskey. Then swallowed hard and erupted into a fit of coughs. Wrong pipe probably. That or he couldn't hold his booze. Dragon Face rolled his eyes and whapped Max's back but Max didn't seem to notice. He waved his hands around in a vague gesture of thanks. Or maybe it was a gesture of _knock it off._ It took a while but he did get his voice back.

"Ain't on our own if that sentence has got _we_ in it."

"Not sure if you count," quipped Dragon Face. Was it a quip? Maybe it wasn't. Maybe he wasn't sure if anyone counted anymore.

"Ooo." Max punched him lightly in the arm. It was a sloppy hit thanks to the drunkenness.

Old times huh. The lights from below shone on no more of Dragon Face and Max than their legs, and the unlit rooftop terrace felt colder in the dark. High up and removed. Nothing at their backs.

Shouldn't it feel better to be looking down at all the little people?

"If we ain't asking for help," said Max. "Then we might gotta start walking."

Walking was the last thing Dragon Face wanted to do. But he couldn't argue because he couldn't think of anything better. He and Max disentangled from the railing and made their way down to street level. They walked shoulder to shoulder out of Purple Dragon territory and toward one of the most dangerous parts of New York. A lawless place where even the gangs had plenty to fear.

"Sure you wanna walk this way?" asked Max.

"We're unimportant here."

"Fair enough." Max pulled the chain from his waist. When he wasn't in a fight he always claimed it was a fashion statement. Not here. In this part of town there was no point in artifice. Everyone showed who they really were. Women snapping gum who wore heels too high and bottoms too short. Cars with the windows shot out left parked in empty lots. Barely any streetlamps that worked. Dragon Face ached for the cold metal of a broken pipe against his palm. He multitasked between checking their surroundings for danger and checking for things he could turn into weapons. Should've kept the whiskey bottle. Would've come in handy.

Not like there was any reason to turn back now.

Funny thing about growing up in New York. You learn which shady stuff to pay attention to and which you should probably let slide. If it were a normal night then Dragon Face would've ignored the sounds of the local girls working their streets. None of his or anyone else's business to interfere with something like that. But it just so happened that on this particular night at this particular time he and Max heard the sound of a woman choking. Followed by a man sounding, let's just say, _pleased._

Dragon Face wanted to leave it be. Honest.

But Max couldn't.

###

Kit didn't remember passing out but she must've because she awoke on the turtles' couch. It made sense. The human body could only take so much stress before it shut down. While her eyes adjusted to the dimness of the Lair she wondered how much time she'd lost. She inched her way up the cushions feeling groggy.

"Stay put." Raph pressed her back down. "If you need anything I can grab it for you."

"How long was I out?" Her mouth tasted like it needed a toothbrush.

"Couple hours."

"How's Michelangelo?"

Raph moved to point at the entertainment system where Don and Mikey were having a debate about movies in the blue-tinted glow from the screens. Kit hadn't seen most of the titles they were discussing but some she'd heard of. She was always more of a book person. Books were portable. Mikey in all his enthusiasm looked better, a lot better, cheerful, and was digging through a cardboard box that overflowed with DVDs. More were stacked in loose piles on the floor.

"Found it!" Mikey pulled a DVD out of the box with a flourish.

" _Eight Legged Freaks?_ " Don snatched the DVD out of Mikey's hand and added it to one of the piles, which made it clear to Kit there had to be some kind of organization to the mess. "Seriously?"

"What? You don't think we should commemorate our new house pet?"

Kit glanced around for Anansi's jar and found it safe next to the couch. Someone had moved it while she slept so she'd be able to see it without having to get up off the couch. Which was probably one of the nicest gestures anyone had done for her, made sweeter by the fact it had been carried out without a request. Such a small thing, but it mattered. Who moved it though? Which turtle? Now she was curious. Raph? Couldn't be. He wouldn't get within three feet of the jar and kept making excuses not to touch it.

"We're not watching some B-grade horror flick," said Don. "Pick something else."

"Aww. You're no fun. And after you said I could pick what we watched and everything too."

"Can it, motor-mouth. Just because you're still on the mend doesn't mean you get to be extra annoying. Find something reasonable. There's a gazillion to choose from."

Who moved Anansi's jar would be a weird topic to bring up in the middle of this debate. Guess the mystery would never be solved.

"Movies?" asked Kit.

Raph chuckled. "Kind of a family tradition. We got popcorn too."

"Did someone say popcorn?" Splinter arrived with a glint in his eye and Leo in tow. Leo held a jumbo-sized bowl of popped kernels that wafted the scent of warm butter and salt through the room. Suddenly Kit found herself craving food. Something. Anything. When was the last time she'd eaten? Oh yeah, breakfast. Before the stuff with Savvy and her father. She was ravenous.

"Food," said Kit. Leo lowered the bowl for her to reach and she took a gigantic handful. With no decorum at all she scarfed it down. It didn't satiate her appetite. She couldn't remember the last time she was this hungry.

"Try not to hog the bowl," said Raph. "After all, that's Mikey's job."

Mikey stuck his tongue out and blew raspberries.

Kit hogged the bowl. She couldn't help it. It was food and it was in front of her and she was _so hungry._ Raph took a few handfuls for himself and didn't scold her. He slid up to sit on the couch and she lifted her feet for him to make room. Eventually Leo tugged the bowl away from them and gave it to Mikey. Don didn't even bother reaching in and Splinter took up residence in the armchair while Mikey tossed _Daredevil_ aside. He made a different selection. Apparently this one Don had no problem with.

"Your attention please." Mikey imitated an announcer as Don went over to the back of the couch and lounged right across the top on his side. This must've been normal seeing as Raph didn't budge. Leo sat cross-legged on the floor next to Anansi in the space between Splinter's armchair and the couch. Klunk hopped on Splinter's lap and after a few kneads curled up, which was kind of a hilarious image. Giant rat with a normal-sized cat. "If you would kindly turn your eyes toward the screen. We have our Movie Night movie."

The turtles cheered. Kit guessed that was probably another tradition.

"I am curious to see what you have selected, Michelangelo."

"We ain't really watching _Eight Legged Freaks,_ are we? Once was enough."

Leo and Splinter smiled slyly. Neither said anything. Klunk mewed.

"Don't worry, Raphie." Don draped his fist down at Raph for a bump. "I vetoed that selection."

Raph returned the fist-bump. "You the turtle, Donnie."

"And don't you forget it."

Turned out they were watching _The Bourne Identity._ Kit didn't have any complaints but she also couldn't concentrate. On top of the need for something more substantial than popcorn, she wondered about her future. As the credits rolled she reasoned that she couldn't _really_ run away to live in the sewers with a bunch of mutant turtles and expect her problems to go away. Would be nice, but her life had made her a realist.

She still intended to ruin Savvy and her father. For now she decided to focus on that.

###

Max rounded the corner so fast Dragon Face had no choice but to chase after him. Around the bend they found a woman on her knees who was coughing in that way people do to clear their airways and a man who held a belt designed with eyelets over her head. The man shivered with satisfaction and slipped the belt back through the loops on his waistband. The woman's neck was bruised. It was obvious what had happened. Max was bold and drunk and a Purple Dragon. He made trouble. Dragon Face didn't want trouble.

"What's the big idea?" Max stepped in front of the woman and spun his chain. "Can't get off unless you're rough with the girl?"

The man arched an eyebrow at Max. Incredulous. There something smug about the man's expression and the way he buckled the belt that put Dragon Face immediately on edge. This wasn't someone they should be messing with. Yeah, there was that old adage that Purple Dragons shouldn't be afraid of no one, but Dragon Face knew in his gut that didn't apply here. Plus they weren't on their own turf. That counted for a lot.

"What?" Max was either oblivious to the danger signals the man sent his way or else didn't care. "Don't got nothing to say for yourself?"

"I don't see what the big deal is." The man had an accent Dragon Face couldn't place. Not from New York.

"Whaddya mean you don't—"

The man pulled a crumple of bills out of his pockets and tossed them to the ground. At Max's feet the woman scrambled to collect all the bills and count them. "I'm finished with her. You can have your turn."

"That ain't the point." Max clenched a fist.

"Then what's your point?"

"Like you haven't figured it out."

Dragon Face saw the exact moment Max made up his mind to start an actual physical fight with this man. And for once Dragon Face didn't feel the compulsion toward confrontation. What did Max hope to accomplish? They were supposed to be finding a new place to crash, not be taking hints from all the vigilante rejects they'd run into over the years. But a fight wasn't the type of thing you could stop once it started. Not until it was over. As Dragon Face reached for Max's shoulder and hoped to convince this man his friend was just a rowdy drunk, Max dipped low so his shoulder fell out of Dragon Face's reach. So much for that.

Max spun his chain and launched it at the man's throat.

Soon as it began the fight was already over. Before the chain could land a hit the man caught it and gave a quick twist, winding it around his arm for better leverage, then yanked. The momentum made Max stumble forward and flop right onto his belly. Wound up with his face planted in concrete and the man's boot stomped into his back.

"You're in the wrong part of town to be playing hero," said the man.

Max squirmed. His nose bled. Looked crooked. Might be broken.

"What do you even get out of harassing me?"

"He's drunk." Dragon Face stepped over the woman. She snatched her money ran away.

"Now look what you did." The man pointed past Dragon Face at where the woman had run. She was nowhere to be found. The definition of gone. "She's gone and scurried away. Doesn't work out too well if you scare them off. Now you'll have to find another."

"Let him up," said Dragon Face.

"But I'm not done with him."

"You shouldn't hold it against him." Dragon Face shrugged and tried for nonchalance even though his whole body was tense. After losing everything else he couldn't lose Max too, and it looked like this man was contemplating doing away with him. "Can't hold his booze. Just let him up and we'll be outta your business."

The man glanced down. Something in the twist of his mouth reminded Dragon Face of Basilisk. He didn't take his foot off Max. Dragon Face waited. Inched closer. His heart thundered and his head filled with the noise of rushing blood. This was getting to the point where he might up and tackle the guy. Only reason Dragon Face hesitated was because of how easily from the get-go this man had handled Max. And handled was the right word. This man hadn't just defended. He'd detained.

"She was good." The man shuddered again in pleasure. "Really good. _Mmm!_ Love how she struggled. Great vocals too. She put me in a fantastic mood. So how about this then? I'll let your drunken friend slide if you two do me a favor."

"No deal."

The man scoffed. Dragon Face couldn't tell if he were amused or offended. Maybe a mixture of both.

"Get off him."

"Make me."

Max dug his fingers into the sidewalk's cracks. He shifted position. Still on his belly but at a better angle now, one of his legs was tucked up and his torso torqued for better weight distribution. In response to Max's tiny maneuver the man dropped from having one heel dug into Max's back to a kneel across Max's spine that the man must've sunk all his weight into because Max went from shifting around in defiance to red in the face. Max gasped for air.

Enough.

Dragon Face tackled the man. He didn't know how it happened but he wound up knotted in Max's chain. The man stood over both of them clicking his tongue. This was it. They were gonna get murdered. First night away from the Dragons and they were already goners. What was worse was it wouldn't be by the hand of anyone who put a mark on them. Similar as they seemed, Dragon Face was sure this man wasn't one of Basilisk's.

The man's pocket vibrated.

Pause. The chains tightened. Max tried to swallow but gagged. Dragon Face didn't fare much better.

The man pulled a flip-phone from his pocket and answered.

Out of the corner of his eye Dragon Face saw Max's eyes widen. What? He recognized something? Maybe he was sobering up. About time. Meanwhile the man casually sat on the both of them in a way that was frustratingly inescapable as he took his call.

"You're interrupting my celebration, Gunther. Have some respect for tradition."

Muffled words from the other end of the line. Dragon Face strained to hear but couldn't make out any of them. Of course it didn't help that he was literally tied up with Max. But despite their predicament there were a few things Dragon Face did overhear. The voice through the phone mentioned _secondary location,_ an address near the docks, and _Phase Three_.

"I'm aware." The man's tone turned agitated. "I got held up. Don't compare me to your daughter." The man got off Max and Dragon Face and left. Just like that. His voice receded into the night.

Dragon Face untwisted himself and Max from the chain. "The hell was that about?"

"What?"

"Rushing in like some kinda vigilante." _And putting us both in jeopardy._

"Not like we got anything better to do."

"We're supposed to be finding a new pad. You said so yourself."

Max collected his chain and wound it back around his waist. He sniffed dismissively.

"You should know better than to stick your nose in other people's business." Dragon Face wiped himself down and straightened his clothes. A bit of gravel stuck to his arm. He brushed it away with more force than necessary. "Hasn't life with the Purple Dragons taught you anything?"

"Aw, c'mon. You saw her neck. He was gonna kill her."

"He was gonna kill _us._ "

"Not like we don't deserve it."

"What?" Dragon Face had no idea where that sentiment came from.

"It's something that turtle guy said. How we ain't honorable. I been thinking. What if he's right? Those green guys always seem to have friends come and help them. Maybe they know something we don't. Maybe we been on the wrong track our whole lives."

"You're talking nonsense."

"Am I?" Max threw out his arms and raised his voice. The broken nose forced a nasally edge into his words. "Look around! We ain't got nothing! Even our family kicked us out!"

"You're the one who said we got _us._ "

"Yeah well," said Max. "I wonder if we even have that anymore."

A swathe of black over the moon punctuated his words. Wind scratched at Dragon Face's open skin. The bit of gravel had left a mark. A faraway streetlamp flickered and died. If Max turned his back on him too Dragon Face didn't know what he'd do. If Max didn't want him around he had nothing. They had to stick together. They were the only _true_ Purple Dragons left.

Max heaved a sigh and sat right on the sidewalk, head in his hands. "I didn't mean all that. I'm drunk. But I still meant some of it."

"Any bright ideas?" Dragon Face crouched then sat as well.

"There was something weird about that guy."

"Huh?"

"I mean besides what he had to do to get it up."

While Dragon Face waited for an explanation Max produced a phone from his pocket. A burner, same make and model as the man's. Dragon Face took the phone and flipped it open. One number was programmed in. No other contacts.

"Jane gave me that," said Max. "Maybe we still got an ally."


	14. Terrorist Plot

The scent of driftwood mingled with the slimy smell of gutted fish as a gust swept salty air off the water. The changing winds rushed across the docks and seeped through the warehouse's cracks. In the belly of the building among wooden crates with false bottoms, Gunther and Savvy inventoried their supplies while they talked through their plan.

"We didn't need her anyway," said Savvy as he documented the contents of the warehouse on a flimsy clipboard. "I kept telling you she was a liability."

"She's my daughter."

"That matters?" Savvy knew it mattered. This was him making a point.

Gunther turned his back. "If she's a liability she's one you helped train." He opened a crate. Checked its contents. Marked something down. Rechecked timers on detonators.

Savvy pulled a jar from one of the crates and read the label. He swirled the sample around and listened to the liquid slosh for a long time before he marked it on his clipboard.

"Entry points?" asked Gunther.

"Three main tunnels if we want full exposure."

Gunther smiled. With their current resources three entry points was doable. Eagerness swelled in his heart. So close was the chaos he lived for. Gunther was a true believer in the philosophy that people are only ever alive in the moments they face tragedy. He thought his deeds did the world a favor. To him terrorism was an art form, a revival of the collective spirit. "Three entry points spread out over three days."

"You gonna blow us some holes?"

Gunther mimed an explosion, fingers like debris spreading outward, complete with sound effects. "Right through the sewers."

"Our schlep crew might take issue with that."

"The schlep crew doesn't get an opinion. Will my explosives interfere with your poison?"

"No."

"Then explosions are a go."

"Sewer tunnels have built-in entry points."

"Where's the Savvy I hired? Where's my old friend Sebastian? Who are you and what have you done with his sense of adventure?"

Savvy didn't answer. Gunther hadn't called him by his given name in a while.

"Fine, fine. Compromise. I'll leave you the first two but I'm blowing the last one. Real big. Boom!"

"You're the boss." Savvy finished his inventory and planned how to supply the schlep crew his poisons. He plotted where to meet them, what to tell them, which routes to take for the job. After they'd both worked through their parts of the operation and finalized, when Gunther's excitement waned, Savvy broke the ice. "Sorry about your daughter."

"Like you said." Gunther shrugged, completely over his loss. "She was a liability. Good riddance."

###

Leo was awake in the wee hours because he'd been meditating on current events. As he exited his room he half expected to hear Raph at the bag, but the Lair was quiet save a dim electronic buzz from Don's nook and its accompanying dome of pale light. The sound of key-taps told Leo he wasn't the only turtle awake this late. Or maybe this early. It was that point in the night where it was difficult to discern between tomorrow and yesterday.

On the couch Kit breathed raggedly. Leo whispered her name but she didn't answer. Asleep. Must be a nightmare. Though she admitted to nightmares she hadn't told any of them what she dreamed about. In light of recent revelations Leo figured whatever it was it must be pretty bad. Daughter of a terrorist. He couldn't imagine. He'd always been grateful for Master Splinter and now an even greater fondness swelled in his heart. Pride mixed with pity. Master Splinter would never do anything cruel, let alone evil. Thinking of family not caring about each other was... it wasn't just unfamiliar territory, it was _wrong!_

She winced and in the process of fidgeting kicked the blanket off her legs. Instinctually Leo swooped the blanket back over her. She stirred a little less. The keystrokes stopped.

"Couldn't sleep either?" asked Don.

"Too much on my mind."

"At this hour I expected Raph."

"Sorry to disappoint," said Leo in good humor.

"You're forgiven."

A buzz came from Don's chair where Kit's hoodie was draped. Leo gave him an expectant look. Don dug into the pockets of the hoodie and produced an outdated cellphone. A burner. Still buzzing.

"Should we answer?" asked Leo.

"Isn't that kind of not our call? If you'll excuse the poor pun."

"Maybe someone's worried about her."

"Who though? She told us all she had was Anansi." Don glanced at Anansi's jar, safe beside the couch. It had been Leo who moved it earlier. "I mean besides what passes for her blood relatives. Plus, I wouldn't feel good about waking her."

Kit's breathing had finally settled into a normal rhythm. Don was right. Best if she got her rest. Aside from Mikey she'd need the most time for recovery. Leo motioned for Don to toss him the burner. Don tossed underhand. Before it could hit the ground Leo caught it and paused to weigh his options. One more buzz and he answered.

"Jane?" The person on the other end sounded familiar. "Jane, you there?"

Whoever he was he had Kit's _fake_ name, which put Leo on alert. "Who is this?"

"You ain't Jane."

"You're right." Leo was frustrated he couldn't place the voice. He knew he knew it from somewhere. "I'm not."

"Lemme talk to Jane. I know you got her phone."

"Maybe you dialed the wrong number," said Leo.

"Wrong number my ass! I couldna dialed wrong! Put her on!"

Leo glanced at Don and hoped for a rescue. Don did not deliver. It appeared he was at as much of a loss as Leo, for once the both of them unprepared. He reeled his gaze away from Leo and cast it toward Kit. Leo's eyes followed Don's. She was still out like a light.

"What do you mean you couldn't have dialed wrong?" asked Leo. "Everyone dials wrong sometimes."

"I couldna dialed wrong cuz I called the only number programmed into this thing, genius. So either you's lying and stole her phone—in which case I'll rip you a new one—or she's telling you she don't wanna talk to me. Which I guess would make this kinda pointless… But I still gotta ask her something! So tell her it's Max looking for her."

Wait a minute. "Max? Like the Purple Dragon?"

"Yeah. What's it to you?"

"You're speaking to Leonardo." Leo didn't know why he felt the need to specify, but he did. "The turtle."

"Why you got Jane's phone?"

"That's kind of a long story." And one Leo didn't know if he was at liberty to disclose. "How about you fill me in on what you wanted to tell her. I can relay the message."

"I ain't talking unless I'm talking to her."

Leo gave Don a pleading look.

Pause.

Don nudged Kit's foot. In her sleep she made a disapproving grunt. Don nudged her with more force. She rolled over, which jammed her bad arm against the back of the couch, which caused her to awake in a fit of pain. Through clenched teeth she groaned and shuddered. " _What._ "

"Sorry." Don helped her resituate.

Leo held out the burner toward her. "It's Max."

Quick as lightning Kit snatched it, her pain apparently forgotten. "What do you require?"

###

"You sound different on the phone."

Kit had given Max the burner on the condition he'd never use it unless he was in real trouble. "Are you in trouble?"

"Sorta."

"Define sorta."

"We ran into this guy what had your model flip-phone and he kicked our butts."

"Our? You're not alone?"

"Got Dragon Face with me."

Conflicting emotions churned in Kit's gut. On one side of it she was relieved Max didn't sound like he was in mortal danger—though his voice did have a different nasal quality than usual—but on the other he'd woken her up in the middle of the night for something that wasn't dire. A single detail kept her on the line. "Some guy beat you up?"

"You heard me."

"And he had burner like mine?" In Kit's peripheral vision Don and Leo exchanged gestures in a wordless conversation. Concern rolled off of them, along with obvious theorizing.

"Exactly like yours," said Max.

"Find out the guy's name?" Kit dreaded the answer. Deep down she already knew but she didn't want to be correct. She held out hope. The burners could be a coincidence. The guy could've been someone else. Anyone else. Any criminal worth his salt used a burner for secure communication.

"Nu uh. Didn't catch his name. But when he had us twisted up he got a call from this other guy. I overheard the name Gunther."

All rationale fled Kit's mind. What remained was terror. She clenched the phone in a tighter grip. She felt it against her palm. Heard it creak. Thought it might burst. Thought she might burst. Don cringed. When Kit finally responded to Max she didn't sound like herself. Even to her own ears she sounded dead, a monotone of flatlined sympathy. "I have to tell you something. My name isn't really Jane."

Leo's expression tumbled toward resolve. Kit felt his gaze, his incessant goodness. She didn't deserve goodness. She was unworthy of his honor. That thought invaded her all over again: _I deserve whatever I get._

"It's not?" asked Max.

"It's Cateyana Williams." No turning back now. "Gunther Williams is my father."

Silence.

"The guy you ran into was probably Savvy. That's a nickname though. His real name is Sebastian Grimmwald." How was this so easy to say? Her mouth was spouting words without confirmation from her brain. When Leo and Don leaned closer Kit let them eavesdrop. This was all coming out. They all deserved to know. Max and the turtles were good people. Not like her. Whether or not she deserved it, she'd get whatever she got. From all of them. She felt herself shaking and couldn't rein it in.

"You been lying to me?" Max didn't sound angry. He sounded hurt.

"I lie to everyone." Part of Kit wanted him to hate her. The other part was relieved he didn't. As she became aware she cared about his opinion of her it also dawned on her she'd always liked him. Liking someone was dangerous. Thanks to her father she'd learned to never acknowledge those feelings. Affection could be used against her. But her father wasn't here. She could feel whatever she wanted. She could feel whatever was _real._ "I'm sorry Max. I really like you. But I'm scared."

Leo stepped back to give her space. Don inched closer and put a hand on her shoulder. It was comforting. It eased some of the trembles. Some but not all.

"What're you scared of?" asked Max.

"Easier to make a list of what doesn't scare me than what does."

"Why you gotta be so dodgy all the time?"

"Habit."

On Max's end something scraped the receiver. Maybe he'd switched which hand held the burner. "You're real worried about this Sebastian guy. But you never worry about nothing. He a big cheese or something?"

"Technically it's my father in charge." Kit told herself she needed information. Information could be an emotional anchor. It could serve as something to focus on, because right now focusing on anything else might break her. She felt thin and worn, about to tear. "Did you overhear anything else?"

"Yeah. An address. Warehouse near the docks."

Relief didn't come. She remained afraid. Apprehensive. If they had an address then there was a chance to stop whatever her father was planning. If they got there in time. She stood, felt dizzy, and immediately plopped back down. She couldn't handle any more of this. Max rattled off the address.

Don and Leo knew the area.

###

To the untrained eye, the docks appeared as they always did at predawn. Keyword: untrained. Leo wasn't untrained, and neither was Don, and they were here on official ninja business. Whatever Gunther and Savvy were up to, they were going to put a stop to it. By any means necessary. Normally Leo wouldn't be that merciless, but with everything he'd learned about these two, it was what they deserved. As far as Leo was concerned, anyone who could put their own family through so much hardship didn't qualify as a person.

A barge's horn blared Leo out of his thoughts. He and Don were alone atop one of the warehouses, in position to keep their eyes on their main objective. Difficult to do in daytime without being spotted, but not impossible, especially since the nighttime shadows had yet to completely recede. Since the sun hadn't fully risen, the docks and their warehouses were pale with desaturation, which meant if Leo and Don moved quickly they could cross the distance unseen.

Embracing the way of silence and Don's gadgetry, they entered Gunther's warehouse. Gunther stood there alone.

While Don got in a position for support Leo approached Gunther from behind and crossed both katanas under Gunther's chin. Gunther stiffened and slowly raised his arms in surrender.

"Tell me what you're planning," commanded Leo.

"Afraid?" Gunther sounded smug.

"You're the one who should be afraid."

"The fact you didn't kill me outright means you don't know what's going on, and that scares you."

Leo lifted the katanas higher. "Talk."

"If you kill me you'll never figure it out." Gunther chuckled. He had to lean back a bit to do it without getting nicked, but there wasn't an ounce of fear in his voice. He spoke as one who had the upper hand. "I should clarify. You'll never figure it out _in time._ "

"In time for what?" Leo willed Don to hurry it up. Now that Gunther was under Leo's blades, Don's job had gone from support to recon. If Don found out what was going on and how to stop it, they wouldn't need Gunther. Leo had faith in Don. Far as Leo was concerned, Don might as well have been the smartest person on the face of the earth. So why did Leo feel so anxious? He had the bad guy. They'd practically won. But. Master Splinter always taught the turtles to trust their instincts. The scary thing was Leo knew his worry sprung from those instincts. Gunther was too relaxed to be bluffing.

"You strike me as the heroic type. What do you think I'm implying?"

"Hostages," said Leo.

"Bingo," said Gunther with as much a flourish as possible in his position. He couldn't move his head so it amounted to a little jig of his hips.

That maneuver might've worked on someone less trained but it didn't fool Leo. As Gunther tried to get a foot hooked around Leo's ankle, Leo stepped back, bringing Gunther back with him. Leo darkened his tone. "How many hostages?"

"Hmm." Gunther elongated the thoughtful pause enough to make Leo consider actually chopping his head off. "How many do you think? What's the population of this city?"

The whole city? Everyone? Of course. Bitterness forced Leo's teeth into a grit. A terrorist would do that. Not a bluff. Leverage. "What's your endgame?"

"Now why would I go and tell you that?"

"You've got three seconds before I remove your head from your body, that's why. One."

Gunther stood there with his hands up, not answering. The sun fully rose, slanting into the warehouse with infuriating irony. Dawn of a new day that might be the city's last.

"Two."

"My specialty is explosives," said Gunther.

Leo wracked his brain trying to figure out which landmarks would be the best targets. New York City had a lot of them. Too many to narrow down. And what was worse, explosives meant countdowns. Countdowns which might already be ticking away. Leo felt sick. As if it weren't enough they might not make it to the target site to stop whatever Gunther was doing, they might've gotten to _this warehouse in particular_ too late. This could've been a failed mission before it even began. If that were the case, there was nothing Leo or anyone else could do. Whatever damage Gunther was dishing out, at this stage of the game it would happen regardless of intervention.

Gunther was right. Leo was afraid. He was afraid for his family, for his friends, for every innocent person commuting obliviously to anywhere in the city. Gunther had succeeded. Terrorism. Leo was terrified.

"Leo!" Don remained out of sight but sounded just as worried and rushed as Leo, if not more. "I figured it out. The explosives are a means to an end. It's poison. They're gonna flood the city's water supply."


	15. Roles

While Leo and Don were investigating the warehouse, Kit stayed on the phone with Max. They were both hurt and spent, and the promise of more trouble crumbled what was left of their emotional walls. Their conversation was low in volume and loud in meaning.

"Why you never told me you liked me?" asked Max. "Ain't like I woulda rejected you."

"Do you really think this is an appropriate time to bring that up?"

"Unless you're shy. Maybe you're shy and I'm one of them hopeless romantics who finds shyness endearing."

Kit didn't tell him she thought that was adorable, not to mention in her circles so rare as to be practically extinct, but something between a laugh and a snort escaped her. Raph was waiting on a call from Don or Leo about the warehouse and watching over Mikey, which left Kit and Max in limbo. With no idea where to begin about the clusterfuck that was her life, Kit had allowed Max control of the conversation. She couldn't tell whether she regretted that decision now that she was hearing where he'd steered it.

"Besides," said Max. "The fact you were lying stings a lot less if you were doing it because you were shy."

"I wasn't."

"Got more to do with your dad and this Savvy asshole than me, don't it?"

"Yes."

"Seems to me we better figure out what they're up to then. Because I wanna put this lying bullshit behind us if we're going forward."

"You'd go forward with me?"

"You ain't the only one with a crush, Cateyaaaugh—it's so weird not calling you Jane."

If there were one thing they had going for them it was that their feelings for each other seemed mutual, but Kit couldn't help dwelling on the other side of their relations. The fact that most of the forces against them were her own fault. From the beginning, regardless of its nature now, at the start of it she'd been the one to build their relationship on a lie. And fear. And a ton of other emotional misdirection. Lying bullshit. Max was right.

He deserved better than her.

"My friends call me Kit." She actually held her breath waiting for his answer.

"You ain't gonna give me the _let's just be friends_ line, are you?"

Kit burst into one short bark of laughter that surprised her in its abruptness. "No."

"Oh, good. I was worried. Gimme a heart attack, why don'tcha?"

The conversation might've continued if not for Mikey groaning his way out of Don's lab using Raph as a crutch. Raph had a shellcell to his ear. "Don says we got trouble."

Kit was sitting on the couch. She looked up and didn't hang up on Max. She gave Raph a look that told him to continue. She was braced for it.

"Master Splinter still in his room meditating?"

Kit glanced at the shoji screen that led to Splinter's room, which was closed. "I assume so."

"Great." Raph deposited Mikey on the couch next to Kit and moved with ninja swiftness to knock on Splinter's door, shellcell still held at his ear. "Master Splinter! Something big's going on out there topside."

"Define big," said Kit to Mikey.

"What?" asked Max, and Kit shushed him, palming the burner's mic.

"Don says your dad and that Savvy jerk are gonna dump something toxic into the city's water supply."

Kit's stomach summersaulted.

"I know," said Mikey. "I'm worried too. I had to deal with that poison firsthand and lemme tell you it was _not_ fun."

"It's different." Kit felt her breathing kick into high gear and worked to calm herself down. "How it affected you isn't how it normally affects humans."

"Um." Mikey studied her face. "You wanna tell me what you mean by that?"

"With humans it changes their behavior."

"Please don't tell me we're dealing with an outbreak zombie drug." Mikey's hand clapped over his plastron, and it was an actual honest gesture, not one meant for drama's sake. "I don't think my heart could handle it if we're dealing with an outbreak zombie drug."

"No, that's…" Kit shook her head and took her palm off the burner's mic. "It makes people more open to suggestion, gets rid of inhibitions. Think alcohol but way stronger, an upper instead of a downer, and combined with organ rotting toxins. I've seen people on this stuff bleed from their orifices and be happy about it."

"Orifices?" Mikey made a squeamish noise. "Like, all of them?"

"What's this about orifices?" asked Max from the other end of the line. His tone was an echo of Mikey's. Disgust flavored with confusion.

"Do you have a map of the sewers?" asked Kit, choosing to ignore Max's question. "Not you, Max. But stay on the line." This was a time sensitive problem. She had to figure out how to stop her father and Savvy, and she had to do it _now._ Those two would already be on the move. Maybe even rushing things along faster since Leo and Don found out about their plans. Kit knew she couldn't get out into the field, not with her injuries and fatigue, but she could certainly try to coordinate a counterstrike from behind the Lair's defenses. Maybe if she got news spread fast enough about her father and Savvy's plan, she could cut their grunts off before they reached their destination. Before they dumped the… Kit shuddered.

"Don't got no map," said Max. "And don't need one. You ain't been a Purple Dragon all that long, Cateyana, but me and Dragon Face know the streets better than beat cops. Where you need us to go?"

"Don's always got maps spread out in his lab." Mikey bounced—or more like hop-hobbled—over to the nook that served as Don's lab, and started clearing things off one of the tables, presumably looking for a map of the sewers. Kit could tell from the gingerly way he moved things aside that he was concerned about breaking any of Don's stuff. Mikey bonked a delicate scientific container with his elbow, and the container tumbled to the floor. On impact it shattered. Mikey grimaced. Luckily the container had been empty. "You know, for a genius, Don really isn't all that organized." Mikey snatched a map and hurried back toward Kit. "My bros and I know the sewers like no other, but you were asking for a map so you could help us out, right? Here."

Kit helped him spread the map out on the floor. It wasn't just a map of the sewer system. It was a map of the way they worked, which pipes and tunnels connected to what and how and why and what to do if one of them burst. Blueprints. And current ones. Tension in Kit's chest unfurled. She heard herself let out a relieved breath. She could work with this.

They might succeed.

"Heh." Mikey nudged her. "Can always count on Donnie to be prepared even when he isn't here. He's like our version of Batman."

"I think you mean Brainiac," said Raph, who had returned with Splinter in tow. Raph still had the shellcell to his ear, all three knuckles a paler shade than usual. "You find anything in Don's nook of wonders we could use to stop these whack-bags?"

Mikey pointed to the blueprints by way of demonstration.

"Working on it." Kit scrutinized the blueprints. She knew Savvy's patterns and had a remedial understanding of how his drugs usually worked, knowledge mostly obtained via osmosis, since for as long as she could remember his poisons had been part of her father's schemes. "Knowing Savvy, he'll find the most efficient way to dose the population, which means it'll probably be whichever pipes bring the majority of the water into the city. The problem is he could introduce the drug at any point along the pipe's run. There's no way to narrow it down."

"You hear that, Donnie?" Raph had switched the shellcell to speaker phone while Splinter knelt on the other side of Mikey over the blueprints. "Hit us with your wisdom, Turtle Tech."

"Technically speaking," said Don, his voice tinny through the shellcell and a little ragged, probably thanks to a rush to intercept things on his and Leo's end. "It can't be introduced _anywhere_ along the pipeline, but I'd need my blueprints to figure out the most viable point of contamination."

"In English?" prompted Raph.

"I have no idea where this stuff would be dumped without first looking at the blueprints myself, since I haven't had time to memorize the entire mechanical makeup of our beloved sewer system."

"Great," said Raph, sarcasm shooting off that one syllable in a high-pressure wave. "You think you could talk us through where they might be?"

"Um."

"Whaddya mean, _'um'?_ "

"No offense, Raph, but it's a complicated system."

"How complicated could it be? We run these sewers every day. Sometimes _all day_ every day."

"Knowing where the tunnels go isn't the same as knowing why they go where they go."

Raph made an impatient noise. It rumbled out of his throat seemingly of its own accord.

Kit thought and thought and thought, then the frustration built up in her chest and blurred her eyes. Donatello was right. Blueprints weren't worth much if she couldn't understand their inner workings. But _fuck,_ she he had to be more useful than this. After all the operations she'd been dragged into, ever since she was old enough to be trusted with her roles unsupervised, she had to know enough to figure out _something_ that could help stop her father and Savvy from poisoning an entire fucking city.

Unless for this one they'd deliberately kept her in the dark. Nobody ever knew everything for one of these runs. All they knew were their own jobs. Kit usually knew more than most, thanks to being Gunther's daughter. She was expected to survive.

Except this time. It was a distilling realization. This time, her own father could've intended to poison her along with everybody else. From the beginning. Or ever since she'd begun defying him.

Kit wasn't stupid. She knew Gunther never cared about her. He cared about what she could do for him. After they'd moved to New York and she had her epiphany atop that rooftop, she'd slowly retreated from doing whatever her father asked of her, removed herself from those so-called responsibilities. Become inexplicably unavailable during pivotal times. Become unreliable to Gunther while she ran wild with the Purple Dragons. To Gunther, Cateyana Williams must now be no more than collateral.

All because she'd turned away from being his _good little girl._

Kit's heart hardened. Felt like it transformed into an icepick trying to burst through her ribs with dull stabs. She hadn't expected this much despair.

"Cateyana." Max's voice was an alarm in Kit's ear. "Someone's gotta tell me and Dragon Face where to go. We're on your side. Those green guys too, sounds like. They roll with that hockey mask vigilante guy, don't they?"

"Hockey mask vigilante?" asked Kit.

"He means Casey," said Raph. "Yo Don, where are you? And for that matter, where's Leo? Ain't he supposed to be with you?"

"Leo's babysitting our criminal mastermind," said Don. "I'm chasing after some goons."

"Goons!" Mikey snapped his fingers brightly. Splinter glanced askance at him and Mikey elaborated. "Goons are good. Goons can lead a guy straight to where he can intercept nefarious evil plots."

"That's the idea," said Don. "Although. I don't know if I'll be able to stop all of them myself. Looks like it's a decent sized group, and normally I've got muscle at my shell."

"Who you calling muscle," said Raph without any heat. "But anyway Donnie, you never said where you were. We need street names, Brainiac."

"Oh, right. You can follow the turtle-tracker I installed in all our shellcells."

Raph grunted and jogged toward the Lair's front entrance.

"Wait!" The words burst out of Kit's throat. "'If Leonardo is covering Gunther and Donatello is chasing grunts, then who's covering Savvy?"

Raph halted. He looked back at her, and Mikey and Splinter followed his example. They all made variants on a worried expression.

"Max." Kit had no time for an emotional crisis right now. She put her hurt aside. "You and Dragon Face have eyes and ears above ground. I need you to work the circuit and find where Savvy is headed. During these types of operations, Savvy never bothers with oversight. That's Gunther's area. Savvy always leaves early to get to the next strike point so he can direct the next batch of grunts, and there's always more than one strike point. If I had to guess, there'd be…" That was one thing she could read off the blueprints. She traced her finger along white lines depicting waterflow. "Three. Three main pipes that bring water into the city. That means three stretches of pipeline for him to be headed toward. Narrow it down to two, since Donatello is going after the first group. If Savvy is moving above ground, I need you to tell me where, and I hate to ask this of you, but if you see him you need to intercept him."

"We ain't got much help in this city anymore," said Max. "But real Purple Dragons are scrappy. We'll do our part."

A noise of agreement came through the call, and Kit knew it to be from Dragon Face.

"Try not to die," said Kit in all seriousness, ignoring the anxious pang in her heart. There was a real possibility she'd just sent Max and Dragon Face to their deaths. "Keep him busy as long as possible if you find him. Raph?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you cover below ground?"

"I gotta cover Donnie."

Kit bit her lower lip.

"I will go." Splinter rose, not so much barking orders as stating them in a manner that allowed no argument. "Raphael, assist Donatello. Michelangelo, you are to stay here."

"I'll get Casey and April to help out." Mikey pulled out his own shellcell, dialing away. "And maybe I can get in an anonymous tip to the cops. Even if they're crooked, they _have_ to care if the whole city is in danger."

While Raph and Splinter dashed for the sewers, heading in opposite directions once they reached the main entrance, and while Mikey relayed all he knew to Casey and April and tried to get the cops in on the game, while Donatello raced after Gunther's men and Leonardo kept Gunther himself under blades, while Dragon Face and Max scoured the city's streets, all Kit could do was coordinate and hope none of them were too late.


	16. Casualty

As he raced to reach Donnie, Raph's vision of the sewers elongated, stretching into a thin murky tunnel of purpose. Years of ninja training had him adjusting his stride to keep his footing no matter how much his vision had darkened or shrunk. This sensation used to bother him on account of it tended to preclude one of his uncontrollable red fits of rage, but with Master Splinter's help—and Leo's, though Raph would be hard pressed to admit Leo helped him at all, especially with this particular issue—Raph had overcome the automatic fear of losing control. He could keep himself levelheaded now. Not exactly as coolheaded as Leo would've liked, but he'd learned to put his relative hotheadedness to use, to channel it in a way that didn't threaten what really mattered. Some days were easier than others.

Today wasn't one of those easy days.

Nothing was easy when one of his brothers was in potential danger, least of all when that danger extended to the entirety of New York City. At a junction, diverging from Master Splinter in a dead sprint, Raph smothered his worry by reminding himself Donnie could always find solutions to impossible problems.

All that was left was to back him up.

They'd get through this.

###

"We need to think about contingency," said Kit. "In case my father succeeds."

" _Kit,_ " whined Mikey. "Don't say stuff like that. You'll jinx the whole thing!"

"I don't think that's how jinxes work."

"That's totally how jinxes work."

"What's this about jinxes?" came Max's voice from Kit's burner.

"Nothing," said Kit. "Never mind. How are things looking on your end?"

"Like the cops gonna be more hurt than help," said Max. "Me and Dragon Face have been giving them the runaround for a couple blocks now but we haven't been able to shake them. This area's all under Basilisk's thumb. Shocker, that. Aside from the cat and mouse, nothing else though. Least not yet."

Kit double-checked the route Max and Dragon Face were surveying, which ran the length of one of the main water pipelines above ground. Akin to the other routes, it was a considerable stretch of city. She redirected them a few times to keep them on track while they dodged local authorities. In the meantime, Mikey relayed a few things via shellcell to Casey, who was covering another area code and had at some point recruited both Angel and April.

"Nuh-uh," Mikey was saying. "Raph's headed in the opposite direction. Because he's gotta meet up with Don to stop to some goons, that's why. Yeah, yeah. I'll tell him. If? Don't say if! You're as bad as Kit!"

Why was there an if now? If _what?_

Kit tried not to let the insidious worry undo her task of keeping everyone coordinated, but her voice did occasionally shake. In those moments she'd clear her throat and restate what she said in an almost military tone, and Mikey would reach out to give her unwounded arm a squeeze of reassurance, all the while juggling intel and banter with Casey.

Mikey was a better multitasker than Kit would ever be. She was glad for not doing this part alone.

###

Leo's katanas remained at Gunther's throat. If Leo wanted to, he could stay there all day. The problem with that was he didn't know if he could afford it. Using everything he'd been taught about patience from Master Splinter, he held those blades at Gunther's pulse and kept the deadlock. The waves splashing against the docks served as a metronome for Leo's concentration. He latched onto the noise to keep himself calm, because all he really wanted to do was chop off Gunther's head. Just raise his katana blades a smidge higher and slash. From this position, it would be easy.

It struck Leo, then. How Raph must frequently feel.

"So," said Gunther. "How'd my daughter recruit you? Money? Favors?"

"Enough."

"How much is enough for you? I could pay better."

"That's not what I meant by 'enough' and you know it. Unless you're going to tell me how to stop this toxic waste dump of yours, keep your mouth shut."

"Or what? If you'll note, you haven't killed me yet. I doubt you're going to."

"Wanna bet?"

"Yes, I do."

Leo felt a growl rumble up his throat. He let it rumble.

"Haven't you asked yourself why you haven't murdered me?" Gunther's tone was infuriatingly conversational. "You've had the opportunity. I bet I know. I bet it's because you see a bigger opportunity in keeping me alive. Say, how long have you known my daughter?"

"Long enough to know she deserves a better father than you."

"Oho." Gunther chuckled. Leo didn't move his blades. They sliced into the sides of Gunther's throat. Not enough to do real harm, and since Leo kept his katanas sharp, Gunther probably hadn't felt them enter his skin. "There's that word again. _Enough._ "

When his blades traveled higher, Leo checked himself. In order not to blow anyone's cover during this potential catastrophe, he'd kept radio silence ever since Don left the warehouse. Although Leo had been counting minutes and tracking the sun by length of shadow while he kept Gunther occupied—been almost two hours now—he was getting impatient. Leo needed to hear his brothers' voices. Some news. _Something._ All the training in the world couldn't prepare someone for this kind of pressure. He couldn't stand here babysitting forever. It was driving him nuts.

So much for ninja patience. Master Splinter would be disappointed.

"Antsy, are we?" Gunther grinned. Leo could hear it in his voice. "Your wrists are twitching."

"And your neck is bleeding."

"You're telling me you don't love this precipice? A fighter like you? Only a matter of time before one of us slips. Isn't the pressure intoxicating? You should be thanking me. How long has it been since you felt this alive?"

"You're sick." Slipping was getting more appealing by the second.

Gunther made a sound that struck Leo as mocking.

"You're not going to weasel your way out of this."

"From the sound of things," said Gunther. "You hold my daughter in high esteem. What outcome do you think she'd prefer?"

Leo didn't have an answer for that.

###

Second wind, third wind, fifth wind, this day was pushing Dragon Face past high points he hadn't known he could reach. Like old times, Max ran with him. Admittedly, working with the turtles wasn't like old times, but defending turf was. Nobody messed with this city. Nobody. Max and Dragon Face ran tighter astride as they passed through territory they knew belonged to the Turks. The whirr of police cars down the block kept Dragon Face's blood pumping even more than the threat of citywide terrorism. He was confident they'd catch Savvy. He could feel it in his bones. What he wasn't sure of was what would come after.

"Think they're checking in on the pipeline?" asked Max, each word a puff of breath. "Since what's-his-face." Huff. Puff. "Turtle nunchuck guy." Gasp, swallow, breath. "Said he'd call in an anonymous tip?"

"Cops are chasing _us_ , you moron. Or dealing with that warzone over there."

Max must've been too tired or focused on booking it to burst into nervous laughter, but Dragon Face saw the twitch of his mouth that meant he otherwise would've.

"Yo, moron." Dragon Face grinned and spoke over his shoulder because Max had fallen a couple steps behind. "Whaddo they call a rush like this? Adrenaline or nostalgia?"

"Frantic is what."

A garbage bin obstructed their route. Dragon Face vaulted it. He heard the clanks of Max's chain as Max landed behind him.

"You keeping up?" asked Dragon Face.

"Whaddo you think?" Max cuffed him in the shoulder. Had to use his free hand since he was still on the phone with Ja—uh, Cateyana. Weird name. Sounded sort of ritzy. "We got turned around again. Cops and gangs. Think Basilisk's dragons might be moving in on the Turks. Get us back on route?"

Cateyana's voice came muffled through the burner. Max took lead while she directed him and Dragon Face back where they were supposed to go. Say what you will about that girl, but she's good at barking orders. Maybe that's why Max liked her. He never was one to act without direction. Back in the day, Dragon Face had to _teach_ him how to be a punk.

They turned a corner and wound up in an empty lot. Overgrown, a hassle to jog through. Brown weeds tangled between gravel and the remnants of a chain-link fence as Max and Dragon Face hurdled cinderblocks and headed toward the opposite street. The buildings that framed the lot caught Dragon Face's attention. Lots of abandoned lots in New York, but this one in particular he recognized. There used to be a store here, a lifetime ago, before Hun burned it down.

"Beautiful fire," mumbled Dragon Face.

"You say something?"

"Nah." Dragon Face thought of the transformation of that store into this ugly lot thanks to Hun, and of the transformation of the Purple Dragon warehouse into something else ugly thanks to Basilisk. _Hate to admit it, but Jones' grudge ain't unfounded._ "Just commenting we're back on ancient turf. You positive we're headed the right way?"

"Think so." Max exchanged words with Cateyana. "Yeah."

Before they could reach the edge of the lot, vague unease lifted the hair on the back of Dragon Face's neck. Live on the streets long enough and you get a sense for when you're about to walk into something. Silence was what tipped him off. It left a buzz in Dragon Face's ears. The scuffle they'd passed, Turks versus Basilisk's dragons, must've ended. No way to figure who'd won, which meant no way to tell whose turf they were treading. He yanked Max by the arm back into the lot. "Hold up."

"What?" Max took one look at Dragon Face's expression, jammed the burner between his shoulder and ear, and unwrapped the chain from his waist. "Uh, Cateyana? Might have to call you back."

No convenient broken pipes around here, but cinderblocks aplenty. Dragon Face picked up one that was half broken. Good size for bashing. Fit nicely in his palm, great texture for a firm grip.

Basilisk's dragons came into view on the street, enough of them to outnumber Max and Dragon Face by three apiece. They crowded the entrance to the lot, bruised but rearing for more violence. Basilisk himself wasn't there, not that Dragon Face could see, but Dragon Face did spot behind the mob a cop he recognized. It was the one who'd held Angel and her grandmother at gunpoint.

"How crooked you gotta be to run with the gangs around here, huh?" asked Dragon Face inside that tipping moment before the fight could begin, where the air was electric with potential energy and weapons had yet to fly. "Not to mention point a gun at someone's grandma. Bet you're getting paid a pretty penny. Does taking out Turks get you extra? I'm curious. How deep's your greed? Never can tell with official types. You all seem phony to me."

The cop stood pokerfaced behind the crowd of Basilisk's dragons.

"I'm surprised you ain't the type to brag." Dragon Face scanned the lot for ways to get around them but there weren't any. Too many of Basilisk's dragons blocked the way. He grimaced.

"If you's a cop then you should know some nutjob's gonna dump poison into the neighborhood water supply." Max spun his chain with one hand while he slipped the burner into his pocket with the other.

The cop tilted his head, squinting, maybe trying to tell if Max was serious.

"You knew it would come down to this, man." Basilisk's voice enunciated from above. He'd opened an apartment window and leaned his elbows on the sill to speak down his nose at Dragon Face.

Max looked up and bristled. "You!"

Basilisk put on this grave expression like he didn't want to do what he was doing but he _had_ to, as if forced by circumstance. Dragon Face knew it was fake because nothing about Basilisk was honest. Also, bit hard not to notice the condescension in the twist of his ugly, two-faced mug.

Someone out of sight pounded pavement under hasty steps as they approached.

At the sound of footsteps running, the cop looked left then faded into the background. Good riddance.

Of course, that still left Dragon Face and Max surrounded on three sides, running on fumes and spent from last night and this morning's escapades, on a time limit to find this Savvy jackass, and facing down an entire gang of people who were holding a grudge. Things were not looking good.

But were they ever? Life in a street gang didn't tend to make a guy an optimist.

"Who'd the cop notice?" said Max through the side of his mouth.

"Beats me." Dragon Face eyed his former family and tested his grip on the cinderblock. Took him a second to realize he'd taken a subconscious step closer to Max. "Bigger problems." Bulges in clothing made it obvious some of Basilisk's dragons were packing.

"Nothing at our backs," whispered Max.

Dragon Face grunted then whispered back. "Really wanna put our backs to that?" He jutted his chin to indicate the crowd.

"You'd rather we go _through?_ "

That settled that. They turned tail and ran.

Basilisk's dragons gave chase and thundered across the lot, letting out roars and cheers. From the window above, it sounded like Basilisk was laughing. Long range weapons flew. As Dragon Face ducked to avoid the worst of it, the earsplitting bangs of gunfire rocketed his whole body forward urgently faster. Vision shrunk down to one narrow line, he had to put all his focus on footing. Muffled under the high tone that rang in his ears were the sounds of Basilisk's dragons behind him tripping—probably thanks to the overgrowth or that curling chain-link fence. Dragon Face didn't look back. He kept that busted cinderblock white-knuckled ready as he pumped his arms and kept Max in the corner of his eye as they sprinted their retreat full tilt.

Brick siding whooshed past his peripheries as yet another fresh rush of adrenaline spiked Dragon Face's heartrate. Got to the point his blood was so loud in his ears he couldn't even hear himself breathe anymore, but man did he _feel_ each breath. Every exhale tightened his chest painfully. Every inhale sucked in so much air so harshly his lungs seared with the strain. Bright dots began flickering at the edges of his vision, but he didn't have time to shake them away. Max overtook him, ducking gunfire that sent old brick siding into sudden dirty sprays.

Dragon Face spun, still running, and chucked the cinderblock hard as he could into the crowd. Got one of Basilisk's dragons right in the face. Guy dropped flat.

Spinning back around when he reached the end of the lot, Dragon Face began turning the corner after Max and got hit with _pain_ _ **.**_ World went white with it. Just brightness can't breathe something clamped his arms and dragged him over ground over brick it _hurt._ Surroundings returned blurry couldn't get his bearings Max's broken nose appeared overhead without that signature nose ring. Must've lost it somewhere. Dragon Face hoped Savvy had a nice indentation in his knuckles if that's where Max lost it. Becoming aware his thought train had derailed, Dragon Face found himself down on the sidewalk, eyes to the sky. Max must've dragged him the rest of the way around the corner.

"Shit!" Max tore off his shirt and pressed it into Dragon Face's chest.

Intense pain stunned Dragon Face.He blanked, vision gone again, and heard himself make a choked noise as his fingers cupped uselessly at Max's shirt. The shirt was damp, getting damper. Dragon Face figured he'd been shot, figured he should apply pressure, but didn't have the strength in his arms to do it. Suddenly nauseous, he let this head loll to the side. First thing he saw when his vision returned was that crooked cop. Well, no. First thing was Max's legs and twirling chain. Second thing, seen through Max's stance, was the cop. Third thing was Savvy. As identifiers go, that eyelet belt of Savvy's was a bit hard to miss.

The cop's eyes, nose, and ears were bleeding. He was pale, jittery. He alternated frenetically between smiling and frowning. What was up with that? The whites of his eyes shone from under garishly bright red blood that ran down his face, pupils contracted in a way that made him look crazed, delirious in the worst way, and a third of his uniform was wet with a dark, unknown substance. Dragon Face couldn't figure out how he noticed so many details about the cop in such a short time, then wondered if being shot could speed up or slow down your perceptions. Everything felt distant but simultaneously very real. Freaky.

The cop moved his gun around frantically, no regard for the safety of anyone. As Savvy sprinted out of view, the quick flash of his smug grin made an impression on Dragon Face. There was something important about that, something Dragon Face couldn't put together in his state.

The pain sank into an oozy near-numb awareness. Dragon Face lost his grip on Max's crumpled shirt, now soaked through, and his arms flopped to the sidewalk. He felt the dull weight of his limbs dropping against a surface but not the texture of it, not the pain. Was like he was sinking out of himself, the world getting dimmer.

 _Am I dying?_

A horde of footsteps interrupted Dragon Face's thoughts of mortality. The steps drummed closer as Basilisk's dragons raced toward them from what sounded like all sides. _Must've gone around the block to close us in, trap us with our backs to the wall._ Max took a single step back, halting with his toe dug into a sidewalk crack and the heel of his shoe so close he could've easily stomped Dragon Face's tat. Dragon Face trusted him not to. But if Dragon Face really was a goner, he had to get Max out of here. Max was the closest thing to family he'd ever known, and Dragon Face would die for him. In a heartbeat.

His heart beat.

 _They can take me but I ain't letting them take Max. I may be down but I'm still at his back._

"Mmguhk," said Dragon Face, then tried again. Hard to get air in his lungs. His voice came out quieter than he'd ever heard it. Already a ghost of himself. "Max. Th-that cop."

"Stay down," said Max with authority.

"Ss-savvy's our job, ain't he? H-he ran th—"

"I saw."

"Go af-fter him."

"I ain't leaving you here to die!"

Cateyana's garbled voice came from Max's pocket. Dragon Face couldn't make out the words.

"Max," said Dragon Face. "I'm a goner."

Max's chain spun faster. The twitch of his calf muscles meant he must've been looking every which way, probably trying to figure how to defend against so many foes. But Basilisk's dragons were closing the gap, that cop was a dangerous wild card, and Savvy was receding out of view. If Max wanted to survive this, his only option was to chase after Savvy. Just fucking sprint after the guy and hope for the best. Dragon Face knew it, and he knew Max knew it too. Between Max's feet, a spot of clear liquid hit the sidewalk. It wasn't sweat.

"I may be a goner, but th-this city don't have to be."

"I can't." The nasal quality in Max's voice had changed. It wasn't just from a broken nose anymore. "Family sticks together."

"And Dragons def-fend their turf." It was a low blow, but Dragon Face had to get Max out of harm's way. They couldn't _both_ die here. And that cop was too erratic. Max's straight shot out of this crowded block was vanishing after Savvy. "You really gonna let th-that Savvy dick walk all over our city?"

Max made a noise of primal grief. No other way to put it. His apology came out in a broken, trembling whisper. He called Dragon Face by his actual name, the name Dragon Face's parents had given him. The name from before the gangs, before the tat. A name only a handful of real Purple Dragons knew. Then Max's shoe turned, the motion dappling the sidewalk with tears.

Dragon Face closed his eyes, his hearing the last sense to fade. He died to the sounds of a street brawl, Max's swinging chain, and gunfire.


	17. Race Against Time

Kit closed her eyes and inhaled through her nose. Deeply, softly. As she did, she mentally sidestepped the pressure welling in her eyes and the solid sensation of her heart turning sharp, hard, and cold. She put her hand over the burner's mic and kept her voice from cracking.

"We're down one," she told Mikey. "Dragon Face is dead."

Mikey's jaw dropped.

"Who's available to assist Max? He has eyes on Savvy."

Mikey stared at her. In the Lair's sudden silence, Casey's voice crackled loudly from the shellcell, but the words were a jumble that did nothing to snap Mikey to attention. His jaw remained slack. Maybe it was dawning on him for certain they weren't getting through this unscathed. Kit empathized. She remembered the first time that realization hit her. She'd been young, unprepared for such dread. Not that anyone ever could prepare for these things. Seeing her former self reflected in Mikey, she mourned her own innocence alongside his. For three breaths. Then she focused on the ice shard sensation of her heart and blocked out the emotion. Empathy or not, with the situation as it was, none of them had time to process loss. Kit didn't raise her voice. She knelt over the blueprints and map they'd spread out for resource coordination and restated her request, trusting Mikey to hear the urgency.

"Michelangelo, I need your help. Who's available?"

"Right." Mikey swallowed. Jittery, he exuded nervous energy as he repeated himself. "Right." Kit felt his gaze on her hand as she traced her uneven fingernails across the map in an approximation of Max's current location. Mikey's fingers joined hers. "Casey's too far away from there to be any help. Master Splinter. We need Master Splinter." With frenetic motions, Mikey hung up on Casey and speed-dialed. "I gotta get ahold of him and check."

If they weren't on such a time crunch, Kit would've found some way to reassure him. She might even thank him for finding his focus despite the distress. But she didn't want to turn into a distraction, so she kept quiet.

Mikey got through to Splinter.

From the shellcell, Splinter's words were quieter yet clearer than Casey's had been. "Yes, my son?"

"One of the Purple Dragons found Savvy." Mikey rattled off the nearest intersection to Max's location. "How fast can you get there?"

"Consider it done, my son."

As she studied the spread beneath her fingernails, Kit breathed consciously. Usually, that worked to wrangle her emotions, but this time her eyes kept fogging. _Crying won't help. I am a glacier. I am unmeltable._ She refocused but overcompensated, and her surroundings heightened to crystal, painful clarity. Colors saturated. Lines sharpened. Her senses burned with sudden, hyperactive awareness, and Mikey's presence, his physical substance beside her, became an emphasis that was inexplicably aggravating. _Focus. Glacier. Cold logic._

She still held the burner at her ear. Max's end of the line was all scuffs, static, and broken sounds. She'd known Dragon Face, but not like Max had known him. Kit imagined Max choking down sobs but nonetheless racing to do his part. The thought hardened her resolve. If Max could focus through this, so could she. She reminded herself of her tasks. What she should've been doing was coordinating everyone. She should've been making one call at a time, informing everyone of what happened and where they needed to be. But when she tried to make that first call, she realized she was afraid to hang up on Max. Afraid if she did she might miss something crucial. If Dragon Face could die, so could…

Max didn't have a molt. He wasn't like Anansi. Dead was dead. No trickery.

"Master Splinter is heading over for backup," said Mikey.

"I can't make the other calls."

"That's alright." Mikey, without missing a beat, hit another speed-dial on his shellcell. "That's why there's two of us."

The onset aggravation Kit felt about his presence abruptly evaporated, replaced by gratitude. And shame. Mikey wasn't lecturing her about keeping her head. He wasn't implying with his actions she should grow thicker skin either. He was covering more than his share of the work in order to give her time to pull herself together. Being annoyed by his presence was idiotic. Mikey's automatic support inspired Kit to pay the kindness forward.

If Mikey could do that for her without even being aware of it, she could do it for Max. At the very least, even if it didn't work, she needed to try.

"Help is on the way," said Kit loudly enough that Max had to hear it over the din of his surroundings. "Splinter is on route." She didn't know what else to say. There wasn't anything else to say. No, there was one thing. "I'm staying on the line. I'm here."

Max made a sound Kit chose to interpret as thanks. If it were anything else, her glacial resolve might melt. She listened to the noises from Max's end of the line change quality, and a moment later his breath came in closer puffs. He must've put his burner to his ear.

"I'm here," she repeated. It was all she could think to say.

"I was right there," said Max. "It didn't matter."

A deep, stabbing pain throbbed in Kit's chest.

"He told me to run and I ran." His voice cracked. "Why'd I listen?"

There were no words.

"Why?"

###

Raph got to Donnie and saw him surrounded by over a dozen goons. They were crowding him, and the layout of the sewers prevented Don from pole-vaulting over the horde. Half the goons were keeping Don occupied and the other half were clustered elsewhere, most of them hunched over. Raph assumed Don had laid those goons flat before the rest had rushed him. That had to be how it went down.

The fight was already underway, so Raph didn't bother with stealth. He barreled through the goons, tackling and tripping, bouncing them off his shell and rolling them over with weapon twists to get to Don. When Raph got there, Don was uninjured. The relief made Raph fall back on familiar teasing.

"These guys ain't so tough. Whaddo you need me for?"

"Easy for you to say, Raph. I'm trying to multitask."

"Last I checked—" Raph caught a glimpse of a spark, the quick electric blue of a taser. That explained it. Don couldn't work if he got zapped. Raph had experience with tasers. Not something he'd recommend. "—Multitasking's what you're good at. Hey, is it just me or do these whack-bags give off Foot Ninja vibes?"

Since they were clumsy in comparison, it was obvious by the way the goons fought they weren't Foot, but they did wear similar clothing. No skin showing, swathed in dark colors. Not exactly a ninja uniform, but close enough for Raph to wonder if another faction was involved in this mayhem. It wouldn't surprise him if the Shredder had some hand in this. That would be great, _just_ great. Another incarnation of their oldest enemy causing havoc all over town. No matter how many times they killed that glorified can opener it never seemed to take. Even if the utroms had the genuine article last Raph checked, Karai was alive. She could've taken up the Shredder's mantle.

But the Foot had industry in town, much as Raph hated to admit it. It wouldn't make sense for them to poison anyone, and with Karai at the helm, they wouldn't get involved without first doing their research.

"We have to get over there," said Don between bo strikes, his voice edged toward panic. "Before they pour that gunk down the hatch."

"Hatch?" Raph flipped a goon into the sewer wall. He peered past the ones clustered around him and his bro to see another bunch of good-for-nothings crowding a specific portion of pipe. In his haste, Raph had at first overlooked the ones huddled there, but now he saw they had mason jars of Savvy's toxin stacked next to a discoloration in the pipeline that could only be some kind of maintenance hatch. He wasn't about to argue with Don. With a grunt of irritation that morphed into a battle cry, Raph raced for the gaggle of goons by the hatch, fully intent on teaching them a lesson about, let's say, _proper sewage maintenance._

Halfway there, as the goons pried open the hatch, a taser buzzed again and a split-second later Donnie screamed. When Raph turned back, it wasn't because he'd solved some moral dilemma that weighed his brother against all of New York City. It was instinct, which was about as far from a coherent decision as you could get. And you know what? If he could do it over again, he wouldn't take it back even if it did mean Savvy's gunk got spilled.

He forgot about the toxin and covered Donnie. While he was doing that, his shellcell rang. No time to answer. At least not until he laid a few more goons on their backs and got Don back on his feet.

Don groaned, rubbing his head as he leaned on his bo staff.

"You okay, bro?"

"Yeah, I think s—" Don made that breathy, panicked noise he usually makes before some technical malfunction starts a fire. "The hatch! The gunk! Why didn't you stop them pouring the gunk?"

Raph, for the life of him, couldn't keep the wryness out of his words. "You're welcome."

While Don vaulted toward the hatch with renewed vigor, Raph chased after him and checked the shellcell. Missed call from Mikey. He was about to dial back when Mikey rang him again. This time Raph answered, still running, taking out leftover goons as he went. "Mikey, tell me you've got good news."

"Uh," said Mikey. "I can't. I have terrible news. That's why I'm calling."

Don reached the hatch, took one look, and put both hands on his head.

"Don and I might do you one better," mumbled Raph.

"Huh?"

"You first, Mikey." Raph inhaled and remembered one of Master Splinter's lessons about keeping your head in a crisis, but it didn't do much good. "Lay it on me."

"Dragon Face didn't make it."

"Say what?"

"Dragon Face. He's… he's dead."

Don spurred back to action. He dropped to his knees and frantically—but with extreme care that bordered on neurotic—pulled mason jars off the stack and spun them around, seeming to look for labels. Far as Raph could tell, there weren't any. What was more disturbing was that Don left the hatch open while he scrutinized one jar after another. Raph could swear the usual condensation of the sewers got heavier and the swoosh of running water thundered faster through the pipes. The shellcell nearly slipped from his grasp as he thought of all those people topside innocently taking showers. All those kids washing their hands before breakfast. Not to mention how much water surrounded the Lair.

He remembered that exact moment Savvy got to Mikey, that single splash of toxin that nearly took him out for good, and Kit's profession that the toxin could have even worse effects on humans.

No use mincing words.

"Hate to say it," said Raph. "But we got bad news too."

###

Gunther was right. Leo was antsy. And what was more, getting more agitated by the second. He was starting to think remaining in this stalemate was a bad idea. Something was wrong. He could feel it. Whatever it was, it was nagging his attention away from Gunther. Leo didn't know how, but he knew things weren't going as planned.

Gunther shifted his weight.

Leo adjusted to keep him trapped. Gunther wasn't the type he could let run free. But that left Leo with a dilemma. He didn't want to be the guy who murdered a friend's father.

"You haven't answered my question," said Gunther. "Now I'm wondering if my daughter recruited you or if you recruited her."

"Nobody recruited anybody."

"If you say so." Gunther's shoulders seemed to lift microscopically. He might've shrugged if Leo let him. "She'll come back to me, you know. Always does. An interesting fact about loyalty is you can condition it."

Leo felt his teeth grinding. _This creep._

"Especially with family," said Gunther.

An image of Karai interrupted Leo's thoughts. She descended as she asserted, _"This is not what I wanted!"_ No matter how many times that memory had replayed itself in the wee hours of endless nights, no matter how many times Leo dissected it, it never sounded like Karai was lying. Yet she'd gone back to her so-called father every time, every chance for redemption ignored. The more he thought about it, the more parallels he saw between Karai and Kit. The dilemma grew more complicated. Leo didn't want a repeat of what happened back then.

His shellcell vibrated, loud and echoey in the warehouse.

"Someone's popular," said Gunther amicably. Up until this point, he'd had his hands up, but now he dropped his arms. Using Leo's momentary distraction as an opportunity, Gunther slipped one hand into his pocket.

"Don't," said Leo.

"Don't what?"

"I get the feeling whatever you're about to do is unwise." Leo changed the angle of his katanas. A warning. "Show me your hands."

"We've established you won't murder me." Gunther left his hand in his pocket. "What if I've just activated a bomb? Would you stand here and die by my side?"

"You're bluffing."

"Okay," said Gunther in the same way he'd said _if you say so._

Leo found himself tensing to spring. It wouldn't leave him alone, the sense that something wasn't right. Not to mention he couldn't tell if Gunther was playing him or really was crazy enough to activate a bomb that would kill them both if Leo wasted too much time deliberating. His shellcell kept buzzing. Plus, Don had once given him a rundown of dead man's switches. If Gunther had one of those, Leo couldn't do away with him now without risking blowing them both to smithereens. He didn't have to like it, but he had to back off. He jumped away from Gunther with an aggravated grunt.

Laughing, Gunther took his hand out of his pocket. His empty hand. He waved.

Leo did his best impersonation of Raph.

Gunther skedaddled out of the warehouse, and Leo gave chase.

Before Leo could reach Gunther, the wooden crates in his wake exploded. A blaze of air slapped Leo off his feet, ripped both katanas from his grip and flung them out of reach, and deposited him flat on his shell. For an indeterminate amount of time, the only thing Leo could do was choke down breath and gasp. Then cough and gasp. Eventually, the struggle to get air in his lungs subsided. Everything sounded like he had cotton shoved in his ears. He shook his head, and the fuzzy sounds morphed into a whine. By the time he collected himself and made sure all his limbs were intact, Gunther was long gone. Shaking with adrenaline, Leo surveyed the wreckage at a glance. The warehouse wasn't totally demolished, but if that blast had hit him even a little bit earlier, he wouldn't have gotten out alive. He shuddered.

He collected his katanas.

When his hearing came back, the shellcell hadn't stopped buzzing. Say what you will about Don, but nobody makes sturdier tech. Hobbling toward a manhole cover, Leo answered. It was Mikey.

"Leo! We need you back at the Lair."

"I take it this means things haven't gone to plan."

"No kidding. Things are about as far from the plan as they can get. Raph told me Don says he's working on damage control. They're both headed back here. We're trying to regroup. I haven't heard from Master Splinter since he rerouted to help—what's-his-name, that Purple Dragon—oh yeah, Max. Kit's on the phone with him. Max, I mean."

"Hold on. I thought Dragon Face went with Max."

"He did, but…"

"Mikey?"

"He didn't make it. Dragon Face is gone."

Leo almost thought he misheard. Almost.

"Like I said," said Mikey. "As far from the plan as it gets."

"I'm on my way." Leo removed the manhole cover and dropped into the sewers. "Tell me something. What exactly does Don mean by damage control?"


	18. Vital Strike

Splinter caught up with the ally Purple Dragon—Splinter did not know his last name but knew he had been referred to as Max—and Mister Grimmwald, whom Splinter's sons called Savvy, in time to witness the chase from an alley half a block away. Sprinting toward them, Splinter utilized both the Way of Silence and ninja swiftness, optimizing the city's narrow architecture and the buildings' ample shadows this time of day in his favor. He closed the distance faster than could be done at a straight sprint in this part of town, leaping silently through the air between fire escapes, landing without even the whisper of a sound, and scurrying above windows past air conditioning units as he overtook Max and Savvy's route from an elevated angle. Encroaching on them in this manner had another advantage. The most common place for a person's attention to be is at eye level. Because of this, neither noticed Splinter's presence.

But Splinter studied theirs.

While Max ran, he had one arm holding a phone to his ear and in the other a weaponized chain held at his side. The look on his face made Splinter's heart ache. Max was crying, stricken by grief. What was more, he was physically fatigued yet glaring so severely at Savvy and with such determination. It was not an expression Splinter wished to see on one so young. Savvy, in contrast, moved with the practiced grace of one trained in combat and was clearly in pursuit of an objective. From the directness of Savvy's chosen path and the boldness of his strides, he appeared unaware of Max's pursuit. Hmm. No, it was not that Savvy was unaware. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say he did not care he was being followed. Or perhaps he did not see the one following him as a threat. The confidence that rolled off of Savvy was in direct opposition to the pain that permeated Max's chi.

A waft of garbage stench and other smells—of human bodies in a rush as they bumped against each other during transit, of the city's pervasive but vague fishiness, of chalky brick and solid-scented cement—provided Splinter a mental layout of the neighborhood. He often navigated more by scent than sight, using his own mutated biology as an advantage. The familiarity of his surroundings took hold of him like wind off the docks, and his body reacted automatically with the meditative calm of precise, instinctual movement. He slid from shadow to shadow into the best positions to remain unseen, which made maneuvering to intercept Savvy easier than first anticipated. Once Splinter arrived at the most opportunistic pinch point possible, he descended to street level and readied his walking stick.

Savvy pivoted before he reached Splinter and proceeded to enter the subway. It did not seem Savvy redirected because he noticed Splinter's presence, rather he intended to use the subway from the start. A split-second later, as Splinter was relocating, Max arrived at the subway entrance doubled over against the railing. He panted, sniveling through a pallor, and wiped his eyes on the back of his arm. As soon as his eyes were dry, he placed the phone back against his ear and listened to the voice on the other end, nodding. Then he descended after Savvy.

Splinter snatched Max by the shoulders and spun him away from the stairwell crowds into the most convenient obstructed corner. He was sure to cover Max's mouth softly but effectively, as he often did with Michelangelo, so as not to let a yelp of surprise reveal their position. He also channeled as much benevolence as possible into a shushing gesture.

It did not matter. Max's eyes widened in fear.

"We are on the same side," said Splinter. "There is no time."

Max swallowed and almost imperceptibly lowered his chin.

"I will assist." Splinter freed him. "Our quarry boarded that train. Keep following. You are not alone."

"Guess not," said Max feebly.

"Go."

Max went. Splinter too, with more stealth. Both jumped the turnstile.

"Yo punk," hollered a transit police officer without bothering to do anything else. "The subway ain't free!"

The train was crowded. Max shoved his way aboard, and Splinter rode atop the car, clinging to the metal, using his tail for balance. He knew of the possibility Max and Savvy could have an altercation within the car, but there was nothing Splinter could do except wait, stop after stop, and be vigilant of those exiting at the terminals. Three stops later, Savvy disembarked.

Splinter climbed forward on all fours down the train car to the platform and ignored the acute worry for Max which clenched his heart. Although Savvy was getting further away, Splinter spared one glance back.

Max shouldered through the crowd upstream against the commuters, and Splinter let out a breath of relief. A quick judge of distance between Savvy and Max made Splinter's decision for him. It was enough. He resumed his role as Max's shadow.

Savvy did not head toward the stairs. He slunk into a corner, though not as fluidly as one trained in ninjutsu, and leaned against the wall, seeming to wait for another train. As the first train left the station, Max crossed the distance toward Savvy. Out of sight, Splinter kept no more than an arm's length between himself and Max, ready to intercept anything Savvy might throw at them.

The rushing whirr of wind and the mechanical rattle of the train receded. Just as Max reached him, Savvy hopped the four-foot drop to the track bed and sprinted down the tunnel. At the lip of the drop, Max hesitated for a breath before he jumped. He landed on his feet with a thud, clumsily but uninjured.

Splinter landed soundlessly beside him. Once again, he grabbed Max by the shoulder.

Max suppressed it, but Splinter knew he had almost yelped.

"I know these tunnels." Splinter pitched his voice low. With a tilt of his head, he indicated Max should follow, then sped silently past the platform, hugging the wall until it became flush with the tunnel. "I know where he is headed."

"Cateyana," said Max into the phone. He rattled off the station number and what direction they were running the rails. "Tell me we're on the right track here."

A good distance ahead, Savvy ducked to all fours, removed a grate and crawled into its opening. It was the same place Splinter had first shown his sons the subway system when they were very little, and which he knew all four still frequented when they spent time outside the Lair.

Splinter's heart hardened. Savvy was heading in the direction of home. Perhaps not by design, yet it was so. No matter Max's present need for support, Splinter could not allow Savvy to go any further. Savvy tossed a breakable container out behind him as he vanished into the opening. Rushing after him, Splinter heeded the whoosh-shatter of the container, which created a fresh spill of noxious liquid, and halted. The spill oozed a pungent, nauseating odor.

Max was going too fast to avoid it.

Sensing he must, Splinter whipped his tail, tripped Max, caught him by the collar, and threw him perfectly over the puddle of toxin Savvy had spilled in their path. Into the opening Max flew with Splinter close behind, deftly enough that both of them avoided any contact with the puddle, and then Max was out of his element and inside Splinter's, surrounded by the bold darkness of the sewers. Splinter heard him scrambling to his feet, bonking against pipes, and cursing under his breath every time he encountered unseen obstacles. Obstacles Splinter need not see in order to avoid. Max's disorientation was loud, certainly giving away their position, and Splinter took precious moments to reorient him so he would not bang his head on anything dangerous. In the process, they lost Savvy.

Which did not matter. Splinter had spent most of his life exploring these sewers, cataloguing each tunnel's bend in a manner deep enough to be spiritual, and did not need to rely on base senses to know where Savvy must be going. A hatch Splinter had run past countless times, previously irrelevant in his memory, suddenly gained significance. It was not far from here or home and was the only plausible destination for Savvy's act of terrorism, based on his known intentions.

"Don't suppose you got a better light?" Max angled the screen of his phone toward the path Savvy had taken. The glow was subtler than many other mechanical devices but still a contrast to the usual dim lighting in this stretch of tunnel. Max squinted. His eyes had not adjusted entirely and probably never would. Splinter sometimes forgot how poor human senses were.

"I do not," said Splinter. "You may wait here. In the words of an ancient warrior, _I'll be back._ "

"He was from the future," said Max automatically. "And fuck that. We're on the same team. Gotta work together. That sicko's probably got backup."

"Hmm." It was not unreasonable to think Savvy might have a team ready up ahead or on the way. "Very well. You are noisier. You go first. Keep up the illusion you are working alone."

Max nodded, and as he jogged forward his footing gained confidence, but Splinter regardless guided him with whip-quick, gentle taps from the walking stick as they tailed Savvy until arriving at the hatch.

Savvy stood under a dome of illumination, pointing a skinny flashlight overhead. The light arced along the tunnel walls, and he was studying both the hatch and a creased square of paper he held in his other hand. Notes or blueprints, perhaps. His studious pose reminded Splinter of Donatello when concentrating over gadgetry. The comparison disturbed Splinter, but there was no time to resolve that disturbance. An opportunity had presented itself.

"He is distracted." Splinter nudged Max forward. "I will take his back while you approach from here. Go."

Without disconnecting the call, Max slipped his phone into his pocket. With a wordless yell, he raced toward Savvy and flicked the weaponized chain into a blur of violent swirls. Savvy bolted to attention, swinging his flashlight beam toward Max. Splinter had already moved—stealth dictates one should never remain stationary while utilizing a distraction—and thus dodged the light without being detected. And what a distraction it was. Along with Max's voice bouncing around in uncanny echoes, the chain served as another loud, whirling decoy. Splinter circled past the ensuing scuffle through adjoined tunnels, using sound more than sight to orient, and came at Savvy from the opposite direction.

Savvy's attention was on reversing Max's attack, on tying him up in his own chain. When Max hit the ground with a grunt, hogtied, Savvy stomped on his squirming form and laughed and did not sense Splinter's oncoming blow.

Splinter landed the blow masterfully.

Savvy's expletive was neither English nor Japanese as the flashlight flew from his grip. He spun and sank into a defensive stance, but his eyes were frantic and his stance imperfect as he searched for whoever had delivered the blow. There was no one to see, not where he was looking. Splinter had already dodged the drunken flashlight beam and with a quick pierce-tug of his walking stick loosened the coil of the chain to free Max.

Down the tunnel, the flashlight rolled to a stop. Its beam cast Savvy in bright relief, empty chain at his feet.

Splinter maneuvered past them both, using the glare of the beam to remain undetected. On the way, he signaled Max to make a move.

Max reclaimed the chain with one harsh yank. The momentum of it slipping away toppled Savvy onto all fours, and he landed partway out of the light. In the relative dimness, his grimace became a sheen. He reached stiffly for his belt—no, his pocket—and produced a knife. Then sat on his haunches and peeled it open. Blade held ready at his side, guard arm out, he rose to one knee. From his movement into the correct stance, the swift and nimble elegance of it, Splinter guessed knives must have been one of Savvy's first weapons, if not _the_ first, and the one he fell back on during crisis.

Max had the sense not to whip the chain at Savvy this time around, permitting Splinter the opening. Splinter obliged. He darted for Savvy and swept his walking stick low, taking advantage of the reach it provided in a form he had drilled with Donatello billions of times.

Savvy turned at the last second to parry, flinched when he saw Splinter, and broadcasted his next strike in a way that allowed Splinter to counter. And that, as Raphael would say, was the end of that. Splinter locked Savvy's joints into agony and torqued. To dissuade excess struggle.

Savvy repeated the foreign curse.

"You are unwise to bring your machinations here," said Splinter. "Tell us how to undo whatever you have done."

"What are you?"

Splinter twisted his arm, literally. "Answer the question."

Savvy grunted and levered his weight in a way that reduced some of the tension.

So Splinter twisted harder.

"It knows how to grapple," grumbled Savvy as if offended by the audacity of this.

"Hey." Max came into the light, dragging the chain behind him then coiling it hand over hand. "He ain't an it. But I bet he can make _you_ an it if you don't answer the question."

Ignoring Max, Savvy bent and stretched, testing the hold with every squirm. Each movement was an attempt to point the blade closer to Splinter's vital points, or where they would have been on a human. Splinter consistently folded him the opposite way.

"You are in no position to be difficult," said Splinter. "Answer the question. I will not ask again."

"If you do anything to me," said Savvy. "You won't be able to undo what I've already put into motion. Do you think you got here on time? All you did was interrupt a redundancy. My formula is already in the water. Can't unscramble an egg."

Max pulled the phone from his pocket and spoke into it feverishly. "You hearing this?"

Splinter had good ears. He heard Miss Williams say yes.

"Is it true?"

Another yes.

"Oh." Max paled and seemed to age an eternity. It was as if his spirit gave up and sank through the tunnel floor. "Shit."

Then Splinter heard Miss Williams say, "Savvy won't cooperate. Whatever he says, he'll find a way to betray it."

"What're we gonna do?" whispered Max.

"How about this, then?" Savvy cleared his throat and stopped wriggling. "I'm the only one capable of making a counteractive agent for the formula. Make me a good enough offer and I'll get you a vial." His chin moved fractionally toward Max. "Or two. How's that sound?"

"Four-one-one says you're fulla shit." Max wobbled down onto his haunches and closed his eyes for a moment, his posture slouched toward the phone pressed against his ear. The outermost coil of his chain hit the floor. While he was down there, he grabbed the flashlight and shined it in Savvy's eyes. "And Purple Dragons ain't sellouts." He gave Splinter what little concentration he had left, honestly asking. "But what if he's good for it?"

Splinter believed Miss Williams. He thought of Donatello.

"Perhaps it does not matter." Splinter changed his grip on Savvy and instantly Savvy panicked. "You are not the only one capable of reversing this situation. From your actions, it is clear you are beyond redemption."

If you watch many movies, eventually you will encounter a scene where two characters struggle to gain control of the same knife. In that scene, the hero is merely trying to survive the villain's attack. When the knife slips, when that blade sinks into one of them, it is usually the villain who falls, and usually the hero did not mean to go that far.

Splinter meant to go that far.


End file.
